


a softer beginning

by wollfgang



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, And Chloe and Lucifer gave their relationship a chance, And they've been dating for a little while and things have been going (surprisingly) well, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deckerstar Network Trick or Devil Halloween Exchange, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Just imagine it's a world where Lucifer never ran off to Vegas, Temporary Amnesia, lucifer loses all his memories before the Fall, samael is surprisingly quick on the uptake though, takes place season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 64,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/pseuds/wollfgang
Summary: After a terrible injury leaves Lucifer without his memories of his life on earth, his past in hell, or the Fall, it's up to Chloe to piece him back together.*for grym, who prompted "harvest"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grym/gifts).



> In case you don't read the tags this takes place late season 2 in a world where Lucifer never ran off to Vegas and he and Chloe decided to give their relationship a chance. It's been going surprisingly well. 
> 
> Also, remember this fluffy chapter. remember it

_**"We are our memory,** _

**_we are that chimerical museum of shifting shapes,_ **

**_that pile of broken mirrors"_ **

**— Jorge Luis Borges, “Cambridge” 1969**

*****

Lucifer very nearly bounces his way through the precinct like he’s walking on air, settling down in the chair at Chloe’s desk with far too much delight.

“You’re awfully chipper today,” Chloe remarks, eyeing him with mock suspiciousness. 

“I have reason to be. Today is our second date,” he says, eyes sparkling.

“Oh, is that all?” she grins, his enthusiasm catching. “And here I thought you would be more interested in murder and mayhem.”

“Well, I’m never one to turn down a... _titillating_ puzzle, Detective, as you well know.” He curls his tongue around the words, dark eyes seductive.

Chloe snorts and leans back. “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you, there’s nothing but paperwork today.”

“Then I think I’ll make an exception in my disdain for bureaucracy just this once, since it means you can leave on time,” Lucifer tells her, looking away to straighten the lines of his suit.

“You’re rather eager. Should I be concerned as to the venue of our date?” she asks, half teasing, half wondering if she should prepare for the worst. 

“We are destined for the Fall Harvest Festival down at the farmers market,” he says with a grin. 

Chloe’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? That doesn’t seem your kind of scene.”

Lucifer looks briefly affronted. “Where else am I to get the best strawberries if not from Abuelita Leticia?” he asks, bewildered. 

“Strawberries?” 

“Yes, strawberries. For dipping in chocolate.” He casts a look over her, smirking. “And other things.”

Chloe isn’t sure what she’s supposed to say to that. Lucifer continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted. 

“It really is too bad they are no longer in season. But the fall ales will have been stocked and there’s the beer garden to visit.” _Now_ he is starting to sound more like himself. “Besides, there’s a petting zoo and other such child-pleasing activities for the spawn,” he continues.

Chloe blinks with surprise, but maybe she shouldn’t be. “You mean all three of us are going?”

He stares at her blankly. “Well, of course it is for the three of us. You’re picking up the little monster from school and Dan isn’t taking her until this evening.”

“Right,” Chloe says, but the fact that he remembered and made accommodations for Trixie is actually...rather sweet.

He goes suddenly unsure. “I mean, I just assumed - you might not have wanted -”

She halts him with a hand on his arm and squeezes. “It’s perfectly fine, Lucifer. Thank you for thinking of her.”

“Yes, well.” He smiles, but squirms a little at her gratitude. “Then we can head back to Lux afterwards, if you like.” He gives her a leer, sliding back into the persona to recover. “Perhaps I can persuade you to consider it our third date? Clothing optional, of course.”

Chloe gives him a look. He’s terribly confident for a man who gave her a soft, chaste kiss at the conclusion of their first night out. “I believe _I’m_ the one who picks where we go on our third date,” she reminds him. 

He sighs theatrically, but doesn’t seem terribly disappointed. “Very well, Detective.”

She completes her paperwork with the proper diligence expected of an officer, she just...may not have been as descriptive as usual. She has the stack finished with plenty of time to pick up Trixie. 

She shuts down her computer and stands. Lucifer is immediately on his feet with her jacket held out and ready for her. She smiles at him, finding his earnestness rather adorable. She allows him to slide her jacket over her arms and settle it on her shoulders. “Ready?” she asks.

He nods, only his twitching fingers betraying his anxiety. He follows her out to the car and gracefully folds himself into the passenger side seat. Chloe navigates traffic easily, glancing over at him now and again.

He’s on his phone, texting briefly, before putting it away and sitting in pensive silence as Chloe drives over to Trixie’s school. He fusses with the edges of his sleeves, tugs at the cuffs, fiddles with the buttons. She reaches over to touch his knee. “Everything is going to be fine, Lucifer,” she assures him. 

He relaxes a little at her touch. “Apologies, Detective. It appears I’m more nervous than I thought I would be,” he admits.

“Our first date went well, didn’t it?” she asks. She thought it had.

His eyes soften. “It did. But you were the orchestrator of our rendezvous and you’ve had previous experience in these matters. This is all new for me,” he says, looking very young all of the sudden. “I’ve never planned a date before.”

Chloe's heart squeezes at his admission. She quickly pulls into the school pick up line and parks. Then she turns to give him her full attention. “I’m sure it will be wonderful, Lucifer.”

“How can you be so certain?” he returns.

“Because I’ll be with you,” she answers honestly. “So it doesn’t matter what we do.”

He looks at her for a long moment and then smiles, soft and shy, the way he had just before kissing her at her door after their first evening out. For a moment she thinks he might lean across the center console to press another one to her lips. Then the back passenger door opens sudden enough to startle them both and Trixie piles inside the car. 

“Hi, Mommy!” She catches sight of the other occupant. “Lucifer!”

“Hello, offspring,” he replies dryly. 

“How was school?” Chloe asks as Trixie seatbelts herself in. 

“ _Boring_ ,” is the reply. 

“Well, perhaps you’ll be less bored to know that you’ll be accompanying your mother out and I this afternoon.”

“We’re going somewhere?” Trixie asks, immediately latching on with interest.

“Lucifer is taking us to the Fall Festival down in the farmers market,” Chloe tells her.

“Cool!” Trixie half yells in her excitement. Lucifer winces.

“Now,” Chloe says, Mom Voice firmly in place. Even Lucifer sits up a bit straighter. “You have to stick with Lucifer and I, no running off. You can pick out one thing under ten dollars to buy. I reserve the right to veto and you don’t get to argue. You can have dessert as long as you eat first.”

“May I offer an addendum?” Lucifer voices.

Chloe considers him with squinted eyes. “You may,” she says slowly.

He twists around in his seat to look back at Trixie. “You, little sproglet, can pick out an item regardless of cost, for I will purchase it.” He looks over at Chloe, smiling, pleased. It falls at Chloe’s continued narrowed look, so he goes on hastily. “With your mother retaining all and final vetoing privileges, of course.”

“Lucifer,” Chloe says, ready to protest.

“Please, Chloe,” he says softly. She halts. “Price is of no consequence to me, I’m richer than my Father - as the saying goes - and it means nothing if I can’t at least spend it on the ones I lo-” he cuts off abruptly, eyes wide with fear at what he almost said. Chloe looks at him in shock. He clears his throat, hands running nervously down his thighs, avoiding her eyes. “The ones I care about.”

She lets him off with that correction, her heart pounding in her ears. “I...yeah. Okay,” she says faintly. 

“Yes!” Trixie’s cheer jolts them both out of it. “Can we ride the rides, too?”

“Yes, we can ride the rides,” Chloe answers. 

“Can we do the ferris wheel?” Lucifer asks hopefully. 

Chloe blows out a breath, half of a laugh. “Yeah, we can do the ferris wheel.” 

The ride over to 3rd street is full of chatter, Lucifer and Trixie banter back in forth in the unique dynamic they seem to have forged. Lucifer manages to pull information about Trixie’s day that Chloe wouldn’t have known otherwise in between barbs about humanity and condescending nicknames for Trixie. It's uncharacteristically subtle and Chloe can't help but grin at him. He waggles his eyebrows at her. 

They arrive at the Festival, Lucifer directs her into a private parking lot where the attendant greets him by name. Relieved she wouldn’t have to drive up and down aisles, Chloe parks the car and looks over at her two miscreants. 

“Be good,” she tells them both, with mock sternness. She receives two nearly identical guileless expressions. It’s terrifying. 

Trixie is full of excitement, flouncing ahead of them a few paces. “Can we do the petting zoo first?” Trixie asks.

Chloe looks over at Lucifer in silent communication. He makes a face that says he doesn’t care either way.

“Sure, baby girl,” she says to Trixie. Lucifer’s tall form cuts through the crowds easily so Chloe tucks herself close and keeps one eye on her kid as they steadily make their way to the petting zoo enclosures. Chickens, sheep and goats. Lucifer balks slightly, eyeing them with trepidation. He casts a glance back at her. 

“I don’t have to go in there, do I?” 

“Not if you don’t want to,” Chloe replies. She can see the whole area from outside, no place for a kid to be without supervision. “Go on in, Trix.” Chloe gives her daughter a nudge. Trixie tears forward, an attendant opening the first gate for her and then closing it. Trixie does the second one herself. A man dressed as a farmer, or perhaps he actually is one, gives Trixie instructions and points her in the direction of a bucket full of brushes. 

Trixie takes a brush and carefully approaches a sedate looking goat and runs the bristles softly down its back. Lucifer watches and puts his hands in his pockets. Chloe steps into his side and wraps her arms around his elbow and leans against him, soaking in his warmth.

“Is it the goats?” she asks, curious. He seems to have something against the animals after all.

“A bit. Animals tend to lose their instinctive fear around angels and I don’t want to dry clean my suit.”

Chloe’s eyebrows raise. “Really,” she says flatly.

He hums in affirmation. “Would you like to see?” he asks, raising a challenging brow at her. He’s been doing this lately, with her. Pushing the limits of her credulity, trying to see how much she will believe, how far he can go. 

“All right,” she says. He smirks and begins to move closer to the pens, dialing up that same charm that pulls people into his thrall. Immediately, the animals take note, turning in his direction. The closer he gets, the further they shift toward him, until he’s standing at the fence with the animals all clustered up on the other side, trying to get close enough to rub up against him.

He looks back at her with an expectant expression. Chloe puts on a face of aloof superiority and studies Lucifer, handsome and amused, and the ridiculous grouping of animals, soon followed by children trying to pet them. It’s frankly adorable.

“They like you, Lucifer.” Trixie laughs from the inside of the fence.

He scoffs. “Well, what’s not to like?”

“You all done, sweetheart?” Chloe asks Trixie. She nods and heads towards the exit, stopping to use the little hand washing station nearby. As they get away the animals gradually become disinterested and move on to different sections of the zoo.

Chloe’s stomach growls and Lucifer’s eyes flick to it. “Hungry?” he asks.

“A bit. We can get something to eat in a little while.”

He nods, but starts meandering in the direction of the restaurants and the produce booths. They stop every now and again to look at something that catches their eye, not feeling rushed. She’d been skeptical about a man like Lucifer in a place like this, but he manages to fit right in, despite his three piece suit. He’s all flash and color and delight. Chloe smiles to herself, feeling relaxed and content.

Trixie pauses at a tent where a woman is painting a dinosaur on a boy’s cheek. The three of them watch the delicate paint strokes alongside the boy’s mother.

“Can I get my face painted, Mommy?” Trixie asks, enrapt.

“Sure thing, monkey,” Chloe says. They wait until the final bit of color is applied to the boy’s t-rex and he’s shown it in the mirror. He grins, tooth gaped. His mother beckons him and they move on.

“Are you next?” the face painter asks Trixie, who nods. She directs Trixie to the chair with a flourish.

“And what would you like painted on your face, sweetheart? A butterfly? Maybe a heart?”

“I want the devil!” Trixie says happily, squirming into the chair. 

The face painter blinks and Chloe lets her head fall into her hand. Lucifer preens, because of course he does. 

The painter looks over at the adults nervously. Chloe steps forward, bending to look her daughter in the eye. “That’s a little conspicuous, baby. Why don’t you pick something else?” She ignores the sound of Lucifer’s soft laughter behind her. 

Trixie gets that face that means she’s going to be stubborn about something. The face painter must recognize it too and offers up an alternative. “How about a dragon?”

Trixie considers this and nods. “A red one.” 

Chloe lets out a breath of relief and straightens. She glares at Lucifer who is looking _far_ too amused at it all. “This is your fault.” 

“I can hardly fault the creature for good taste,” he replies, still chuckling. 

Trixie sits very still while a red dragon is painted on her face, wings framing around her eyes. When she’s shown the end result, she beams with happiness. “Thank you,” Chloe tells the painter, grateful. Lucifer slips the woman an obscenely large bill in payment and winks. Chloe rolls her eyes and tugs him away, interlacing their fingers. 

They end up right near the food vendors when Chloe’s stomach becomes insistent in its emptiness. Lucifer orders from a place with mediterranean pizza with a truly bizarre amount of toppings, and Chloe looks for something that will be palatable to her eight year old. They end up getting a burger for Trixie and a steak sandwich for Chloe. Lucifer manages to snag a table, or perhaps paid someone off for one, since all the others are taken. 

They are quiet, focused on eating, only the appreciative hums of good food and chewing. Chloe watches with some kind of horrible fascination as Lucifer slowly decimates the oval shaped pizza that’s big enough to fill two or three people. Then he’s licking his fingers and Chloe shoves a handful of napkins at him, if just to stop the way her pulse races when he drags his tongue up his long fingers and looks at her.

Trixie complains when Lucifer steals one of her fries, setting off a minor argument on fry ownership. They bicker back and forth for a bit, Lucifer is languid contentment and smirking mouth, at ease in a manner Chloe is seeing from him more and more. He laughs at something Trixie says and Chloe is struck by the sound of it, clear and free. 

Chloe intends to leave them to it, standing. Lucifer looks up at her curiously. “Going to order some funnel cake,” she answers his unvoiced query. Trixie makes a sound of victory. Chloe presses her hand to Lucifer’s shoulder as she goes.

The wait is longer than she would like, but eventually she’s got a plate of hot funnel cake with strawberries and whipped cream, three forks stuck in it. She sets it in the middle of their table and Trixie digs right in. Lucifer takes a forkful at a more measured pace and makes a pleased noise. They’ve silently divided the cake into thirds, but Trixie abandons hers part way through to gather up the excess powdered sugar with her fingers, making them sticky. Lucifer sits back, finally admitting defeat and the uneaten funnel cake is thrown away with a few crumbs tossed for the birds.

“I wanna do the rides next,” Trixie says.

“Why don’t we let our food settle a bit first,” Chloe replies. 

“Let us rest a moment, you little imp,” Lucifer adds, “I promise you we will attend the rides next.”

Mollified by his word, Trixie settles. Chloe idly people watches, the by-product of her job, always analyzing behavior. Her eyes settle on a couple and something pings as not quite right. 

“Serial adulterer,” Lucifer answers out of the blue. She turns to him to see his eyes on the same couple. “The age difference is noticeable, but plausible,” Lucifer allows. “However, his ring finger is significantly lighter.”

Chloe registers the band of pale skin where a wedding ring would be. “Widower?” she suggests, just to play Devil’s advocate, but Lucifer just raises a brow.

“I don’t think so.”

Chloe grins. “She’s too interested,” she agrees, looking at the woman’s wide eyed face. “Vegetables are not that fascinating.”

“You think she’s playing him?” Lucifer leans forward. 

“Could be. He’s got money,” Chloe says, looking at the man’s watch, his shoes. She’s pretty sure he’s wearing designer brands, having gotten better at spotting them since working with Lucifer. 

Trixie sighs loudly and pointedly. The mystery will just have to wait. “Alright, you monster. I get it.” Chloe stands. “Let’s run to the restroom and then we will go check out the rides, okay?”

Trixie hops up and takes her mom’s hand. Lucifer stands, too, gathering up their trash and napkins. “I’ll be over there,” he tells her and point to an aisle of fresh produce. 

“Alright.” Chloe nods and takes Trixie the other way. They use the facilities and she makes sure Trixie scrubs her hands thoroughly. The two of them squeeze back through the crowds and Chloe starts looking for Lucifer’s height, making him distinct enough in the waves of people. 

Chloe sees him, lightly chatting with the woman running a stall, and smiles.

As she gets closer she realizes they are conversing in Spanish. Chloe knows a bit from Dan and his family, and the sort of background understanding one gets from living in LA, but Lucifer and the woman are talking too quickly for her to keep up, rapid fire bursts of communication, but there’s a familiarity to their speech. This must be the woman he comes and buys strawberries from. 

She catches the word fruit, and at one point she thinks they’re talking about her, the word for detective nearly identical except in pronunciation. She’s hanging back a little, trying to be respectful of their conversation, but Trixie has no such reservations, running right up.

Trixie says hello to the seller and they have a brief interaction and then she is grabbing at Lucifer’s hand, pulling. Chloe starts heading their way, ready to intervene.

“Come ooooooooon!” Trixie wheedles, tugging with her whole body weight at his arm. He doesn’t even budge. He looks down at her accosting him with the mild curiosity and disdain one might have when examining a fungus. 

The woman in the booth laughs and says something to Lucifer that makes his face screw up. He opens his mouth to reply when Trixie interrupts. “You promised we could do the rides!” 

He sighs. “So I did, you microscopic harridan.” 

Chloe comes up and sends a look Trixie’s way. “Are you pestering Lucifer?” she asks, voice stern. 

“No,” Trixie replies, but lets go of Lucifer sulkily. 

“She’s fine, I did give her my word,” Lucifer says. He turns to the woman and gives her an apologetic look. “Adiós, corazoncita.” 

She laughs again and waves him off. “Vete, diablito.” 

Lucifer joins them, taking the spot at Chloe’s side that practically belongs to him now. The rides are not too far away and they study the various options before them. 

“Can we ride the Tilt-a-Whirl?” Trixie asks, bouncing up and down. “Please?” she adds. “Please, please, please, please, _pleeeeeeeeeease_?”

And this is why funnel cake is a bad thing. Trixie on a sugar high is even more persistent than normal. 

“Alright,” Chloe caves. She looks at Lucifer. “You don’t have to.”

He looks offended. “And why ever would I not?” 

He proceeds to the booth and buys an obscene amount of tickets, nearly to the point of excess, because when has Lucifer ever exercised restraint? They get in line and soon they’re all piling into the seat and getting strapped in by bored looking attendants. Then the ride starts up. Trixie is giggling madly within moments, and the sound is infectious, making Chloe laugh herself, even Lucifer in grinning as they spin rapidly, prompting a fresh wave of noise from her daughter. 

The momentum slides Chloe into Lucifer’s side, warm and solid. 

“Why, Detective,” he murmurs, his voice seductive, but his expression open and teasing. The next time the ride shifts her near him she lets her face get tantalizingly close, only just before the ride pulls her away. Lucifer pouts. Her head falls back with laughter and then the ride is over. 

Trixie takes them to the Scrambler next, but it only fits two per car. Lucifer volunteers to ride on his lonesome and Chloe spends the next few minutes giggling hysterically with her daughter as they whoosh about. Lucifer remarks it’s a bit like getting caught in a windstorm when flying. 

They meander to the Ferris Wheel, but after some discussion, decide to pass. Trixie wants to ride the children’s roller coaster, so Lucifer breaks her off the needed tickets and they watch as she gets on the ride and seatbelted in. She waves at them as she passes.

They stand side by side, leaning on a wooden railing that overlooks the coaster. It’s a small moment of respite and Chloe lets her weight rest against him, head on his shoulder. He’s looking out at the Ferris Wheel again.

Chloe straightens. “Did you really want to ride the wheel?” she asks.

“I’d have liked to have kissed you at the top of that infernal contraption,” he says a bit wistfully, his candor unexpected. “But it only allows for an occupancy of two per cart and we couldn’t have left Beatrice unattended.” 

“That’s too bad. She could have rode ahead of us.” she says, biting down on her lip and watching his eyes fall to gaze at them. She lets herself drift close and can practically see his eyes darken. 

“Still.” He sways forward. “Nearby must count for something.” And he dips down to meet her mouth. 

It starts off chaste, it does. The warm press of his lips against hers. But then she makes a yearning noise in the back of her throat and he’s pushing forward, his hands at her jaw. Chloe grips at him with desperation, mouth opening under his as he deepens the contact. He growls, the sound rumbling through his chest. She’s dizzy with it, with him, sharp and consuming. Lucifer slips his tongue against her own, hot and clever and she’s pulling him closer, sliding a hand up his back, underneath his jacket. 

He breaks the kiss, panting, his hands falling to her hips, eyes fluttering open. He gets that look, like he’s physically restraining himself from devouring her, eyes black, the tendons in his neck pulled tight. Like he might have her, right here, right now, against the wooden railing in a crowd of people, damn the rest. Frissons of heat curl up, low and wanting, in her belly. She shivers. 

His weird aura thing might not effect her, but his normal charms seem to work just fine when he puts his mind to it. He takes a step back and she feels his loss keenly, cold rushing in to replace the warmth of his body.

Then there’s the sound of brakes, the little coaster coming to a halt and the excited chatter of adrenaline filled children. Trixie waves at them from her seat, grinning toothily at them. Chloe smiles and waves back, heart still pounding hard against her ribs. She reaches for Lucifer and twines their fingers together once more.

“C’mon,” she says, breathless. “I want to ride the Zipper.”

“You can’t be serious, Detective,” he says, voice raspier than usual, but lets her drag him along. 

*

“Well, now that we’ve conquered all the mechanical contrivances, perhaps we can shop a bit?” Lucifer proposes, thoroughly winded and looking a little green. 

“That sounds nice,” Chloe says, taking pity on him, and lets him lead them down a row. Trixie keeps itching to go ahead, grumbling when Chloe calls her back. “Stay close,” she admonishes. 

“It would be a pity if I had to go through slaughtering swathes of humans under the mistaken impression you had been taken, Beatrice.” Lucifer tells her. “Think of the mess.”

Trixie stares at him, trying to tell if he’s serious or not. He stares back. Chloe is torn between rolling her eyes and laughing. 

“Alright.” Trixie subsides, but sneakily takes his hand and holds on tightly when he attempts to shake her loose. 

Chloe smothers a laugh under a cough. Lucifer turns and gives her wounded eyes, but she remains unmoved. Besides, Trixie moves on soon enough, distracted by the wares and abandoning Lucifer when he moves too slow for her tastes. Still, she stays closer than she had been and that’s all Chloe wanted. 

“I found what I want!” Trixie says, excited, and nearly drags her to a booth full of handmade stuffed animals. “This one,” she declares, selecting a green plushie in the shape of a cactus.

“Are you sure?” Chloe asks a little doubtfully, looking it over. It’s a rounded rectangle with charmingly uneven arms, yet somehow incredibly adorable. The material soft to the touch. Big glassy eyes stare back at her. It’s nearly three times the price of Chloe’s budget for her daughter, but Lucifer seems to have no compunction paying over thirty dollars for a stuffed cactus. 

Trixie squeezes it tight and doesn’t let go of it, even when Chloe offers to carry it in a bag. 

“It goes for you too, you know,” Lucifer says, watching Chloe examine the wares of stalls as they go by. 

“What does?” she asks, examining the intricately handmade items of the stall they’re in.

“My offer to purchase an item of your choosing.”

She looks up. His eyes are dark and serious. “Oh. Thank you, Lucifer.”

“I mean it,” he presses, going tense. She takes his hand, soothing him. He unwinds at her touch and looks a bit sheepish.

“Is there something you like, Mommy?” Trixie asks, peering over the protective glass case.

“Not yet, baby.” Chloe murmurs.

They walk along the rows of booths, looking at the crafts and things for sale. Lucifer stops at a leather working area to leaf through the handtooled journals, settling on a dark red one with a thick spine. “I haven’t seen work in the Monastic Style this good since the fourth century,” he remarks, to which the crafter responds with blushing and prolific thanks. 

They pause at a booth with jewelry specializing in natural stone. Chloe lingers near a necklace, a blue-green stone. Half of it is smooth, edged in gold, and the rest left natural, jagged and raw. She is just about to move on when Lucifer’s arm reaches past her shoulder to slide his fingers behind the chain and lift it off from where it’s hanging.

The seller is nearby and walks over. “Oh, that’s a lovely piece, sliced agate.”

“It’s the color of your eyes,” Lucifer murmurs quietly. “Do you want it?”

She forces herself to be honest. “Yes.”

“Then it is yours,” he replies. Chloe makes sure not to look at the price as he hands it over to be purchased. “Shall you try it on?” he asks. 

She nods and he unclasps the necklace, he comes up behind her, his hands shifting out of the corners of her eyes. Then he’s draping it against her chest and closing the latch behind her. He gently pulls her hair free. He comes around to look at her, down and then back up. Her cheeks feel warm.

“It looks absolutely resplendent on you, my dear.” 

*

They’ve gone down most of the aisles when Lucifer stops into one of the local bars, the doors open for visitors. Trixie looks up at all the colorful bottles lining the walls in fascination, though it’s not as comprehensive a collection than at Lux.

“Mister Morningstar!” the man greets warmly from behind the counter. “We got your favorite in just last week.”

“Oh, lovely!” Lucifer says brightly. He turns to Chloe. “Gary here only buys local and his taste is impeccable.”

Gary grins. “Very kind of you. One for you, ma’am?” he asks Chloe. 

She glances hesitantly at Lucifer who only looks back expectantly. “Um, sure. Yes, thank you.”

“I’m not one to hop on the Pumpkin Everything trend that fall sweeps in - save for this single exception,” Lucifer tells her. “Bootleggers’ Pumpkin Ale.”

Gary pulls the tap and fills to glasses. “Brewed with cinnamon, nutmeg, molasses, brown sugar and real pumpkin juice. Enjoy.” He winks.

“Thank you, dear.” Lucifer pays for the drinks and pushes a glass towards Chloe. She takes a hesitant sip, and makes a face of surprise.

“Good, isn’t it?” he grins.

“It is,” she says, and takes a bigger swallow. It’s crisp and a little strong, but tasty. It settles into her stomach, pleasant and warm.

“Can we go listen to the music now?” Trixie asks impatiently. 

“Yes, of course,” Lucifer says and allows Trixie to lead them out to where chairs are placed for listeners convenience. Chloe settles in a chair and takes another drink of the ale. The music isn’t her normal fare, nor Lucifer’s, but the players are skillful and their enjoyment infectious. 

They stay long enough for Chloe to nearly finish her drink, Lucifer’s glass empty long before her own. She lets him finish off the very last of hers, already feeling relaxed, muscles loose. She watches his throat as he swallows and decides she wants to know what he tastes like in this moment. 

She surprises him with the kiss, but he catches up quickly, the alcohol slightly sweeter off of his tongue, pumpkin and spice. Chloe leans back and smirks at his stunned face. 

“You vixen,” he murmurs with a grin, moving forward to press against her mouth, a low hum in his chest, before he pulls back and just looks at her. The music comes to a stop and there’s clapping and cheers, but Chloe can’t hardly tear her eyes away from him. 

People are getting up and leaving, enough of them to be noticeable. Chloe looks up at them curiously. 

“Pardon me, where are you all going?” Lucifer asks a small grouping of people. 

“The pig races are starting in just a few minutes.” one replies. 

“Pig races?” Trixie asks. 

“It’s the last one of the day,” the man adds. 

Lucifer gets to his feet and offers her his hand. “Shall we my dear?” 

She takes his hand and he hauls her easily to her feet. They follow the crowd over, some stopping by the pens to look at the animals before hand. Trixie and Chloe pause to see. 

“I’ll grab us a seat,” Lucifer says, voice close, nose brushing her hair. 

“Okay,” Chloe responds, smiling at him as he goes, and then crouches next to Trixie to look at the racing pigs. 

“Are they really going to run, Mom?” 

“I think so,” Chloe replies. “We’ll probably head out after this, okay monkey?” Chloe realizes, checking her watch. 

Trixie looks sad about it, but nods. 

“Let’s go find Lucifer,” Chloe says, standing. 

Lucifer has a group of people clustered around him when they reach him and money is changing hands, but he halts the proceedings when they approach, looking up at her and grinning. 

“Just what sort of mischief are you up to?” Chloe asks him, eyes narrowed, but mouth curled.

“Whatever do you mean, Detective?” he replies, grinning charmingly.

“Am I going to have to arrest someone?” She arches a brow.

Lucifer frowns, contemplating. “I don’t think so. Unless Patrick’s pig wins, then most certainly.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. Betting on pig races, honestly. They move up towards the fence, there’s a few minutes left and Chloe spends it watching the crowds, people milling about. 

The pigs are all lined up and then there’s a moment of quiet before the popping noise of the starting pistol and the gates are flung open. 

“I can’t see,” Trixie says, tugging at him. 

He casts his attention down at her. “What do you expect me to do about that?” he asks, but not unkind. 

“Pick me up.”

He grips her underneath the arms and hoists her up with remarkable ease, and maybe he handles her more like a sack of potatoes than a human child, but he holds her steadily, seeming to never tire. Trixie swings her feet excitedly as the pigs sprint around the track in front of them. 

Lucifer watches with fervor as they cross the finish line and then grins in victory, lifting and swinging Trixie. She laughs at the motion, letting momentum flop her legs around.

Lucifer collects his winnings as gracefully as he can, tucking a roll of bills into his jacket lining pocket. 

“Ready to head back?” she asks him.

“Whenever you are,” he says, looking pleased with himself. 

The walk back to the car is quiet and content. Trixie has finally wore off all of the sugar and walks with them at a more sedate pace. Even Lucifer is quiet as they pile in the car, but the nervous energy is long gone He rests, loose limbed and untroubled. When he glances over at her he notices her staring and smiles. It’s soft and almost boyish, wiping years from his face. She can’t help but return it, feeling butterflies flutter about.

Chloe finds herself not wanting the evening to end. She mentally thinks of a way to prolong it. She could ask him back to her place, but she doesn’t want to give him the wrong impression. She passes a road sign for nearby restaurants. 

“Does anyone want to stop for a milkshake?” she asks, knowing her daughter will immediately want one upon hearing it, despite how many sweets she’s had so far. 

“I do!” Trixie shouts from the back seat, her energy spiking at the mere thought of more sugar.

“Milkshakes?” Lucifer murmurs, face looking sly, like he’s seen through her ploy to remain in his company. 

“Mm-hm.” Chloe says, keeping her eyes on the road, pretending at nonchalance. “I’ve got a sudden craving for one.” 

“How sudden,” he teases.

She looks over at him. “No,” she says, not talking about the milkshakes at all now. “It’s been a long time coming.”

His brows crinkle just slightly and his lips part, the beginnings of a question, but she’s saved from whatever he was going to ask her by reaching their destination. Chloe parks the car and gets out, Trixie unbuckling herself quickly and they walk to the sidewalk. Lucifer is a warm presence just beside her as the evening air begins to cool. 

She presses the button for the crosswalk and watches the light count slowly down. It switches to walk and Trixie scampers ahead. “Wait for me, monkey!” Chloe calls, hurrying after her. 

Neither one of them see the car blow through the red light. 

But Lucifer does. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note the summary and tags have been updated, and also the chapter count, because there is no way I was going to squeeze this into 3 chapters.

“ _Chloe_!” Lucifer yells her name like it was torn from his throat. 

Chloe is just starting to turn, just catching the sight of the car speeding towards them from the corner of her eye, when she feels the impact of his body slamming into hers from behind, launching her into Trixie. They stumble forward, and Chloe cuts her palms on the ground, but the momentum carries her and Trixie into safety. 

Chloe doesn’t see the car hit Lucifer, but she can hear it. An awful crunching sound followed by squealing tires and the dull thud of a body hitting pavement. The car doesn’t stop.

 _No_ , is all she can think. _No, no, no._

Chloe grabs up Trixie who clings to her, already crying and terrified. She tucks Trixie’s face into her neck and turns. Lucifer is an unmoving heap in the road. She runs to him, crouching down to check on him. _Please, God, no._

Lucifer is unconscious, lying on the ground, one arm twisted under him unnaturally. His chest rises and falls shallowly and his pulse is thready and weak when Chloe presses shaking fingers to his neck. He’s bleeding from his head and his nose. Chloe knows it’s not good. She pulls her phone out and dials, her hands oddly steady even though she feels like shaking apart. 

“This is Detective Chloe Decker, I need an ambulance _right now._ ” She tries to keep her voice even, but it wobbles dangerously. She relays their location and keeps the line on speaker so she can set the phone aside. 

Cars are stopping, people are getting out of their vehicles and staring, unsure of what to do. At least someone has had the good sense of temporarily blocking off the lane. 

“Mommy, he saved us,” Trixie says, face snotty and streaked with tears. She’s gripping her with too tight hands, both of them clutching at each other.

“He did, baby,” Chloe replies, vision going blurry before spilling over. She lays a careful hand on Lucifer’s chest and uses the other to curl Trixie tightly against her. “He did.”

Then it’s a blur of ambulance lights and paramedics. Chloe demands to be in the ambulance with him and Trixie won’t let go of her, so they both end up swept into the vehicle while they try and stabilize Lucifer. 

They make it to the hospital quickly and Lucifer is rushed away from them on a cart, words like blunt trauma and brain damage being tossed about as doctors and nurses swarm him and usher him down the hall. “How long has he been unconscious?” someone asks. The paramedic answers and then they are too far away to make out what is being said.

Chloe takes a very shaky seat and tries not to cry. She fills out the paperwork as best she can. She calls Amenadiel. His voice is understandably concerned and he promises to be there soon. She calls Dan, and he does his best to soothe her from the phone. He offers to come wait with her, but she tells him to finish his shift, it’s only an hour more or so, and he was planning on getting Trixie anyway. She calls Maze and leaves a message when it rolls over into voicemail.

Trixie sits, too quiet and too still in the seat next to her. Chloe doesn’t know how long they’ve been waiting.

Then a nurse comes to say they’ve put Lucifer in a room and she can see him now.

*

Lucifer has been relocated to an ICU unit since he has yet to return to consciousness. He is still and unmoving on the bed, one arm is secured in a sling. He looks pale in the nearby light, a line of oxygen runs under his nose, the IV seems wrong under his skin. Chloe walks in slowly, coming around the bed to sit next to him, holding on to his hand. Trixie clambers up onto her lap, and Chloe wraps an arm tight around her.

The doctor is there, talking to her, but she can’t quite seem to concentrate on the words, things like head injuries and blood pressure and CT scans.

“When will he wake up?” Chloe asks, cutting into his sentence. 

The man takes a careful breath. “Soon, hopefully.” He shifts his clipboard under his arm and looks over at the two of them with empathy, but answers her honestly. “The longer he stays unconscious the harder it becomes to tell when he’ll wake up. If he’ll wake up.”

Chloe nods. 

“If you need anything, you can call a nurse,” he tells her and squeezes her shoulder comfortingly. Chloe nods again, but doesn’t say anything. It’s gone dark outside.

Amenadiel shows up moments after, looking concerned and confused. He stops at the sight of his brother, stricken. Chloe feels suddenly awkward with her hand in Lucifer’s, but refuses to relinquish her grip. Amenadiel approaches slowly, gazing down at Lucifer with some sort of disbelief.

“I’ve never seen him so...” he stops. 

Chloe wonders what he was going to say. Lifeless? Still? It’s jarring to see someone like Lucifer, so vibrant and active, like this. Bruises already stand out against his skin in dark mottled purples, almost black, bandages pressed against his scalp.

“Any news?” Amenadiel asks, his voice quiet and deep. He sounds ancient.

Chloe rubs her thumb against Lucifer’s skin. “No,” she answers. “He’s stable, but unconscious. The head trauma...” her throat closes up. “They aren’t sure when he’ll wake up. If - if he wakes up.” She barely manages to get the words out. Amenadiel nods his head slowly. He takes a seat and goes silent, like he could sit and wait on Lucifer to awake for ages, like he’s carved out of stone.

Trixie relocates to the couch-like furniture, wrapping herself up in one of the extra blankets a nurse brought in. Chloe wiggles her toes trying to work feeling back into her legs after having Trixie in her lap for so long. 

Maze walks in just as it’s starting to get dark. Amenadiel voices her name in greeting, but she ignores him, approaching the bed and looking Lucifer over with clenched jaw. 

“Maze,” Chloe says - not gently, because she doesn’t think Maze would listen if she did. Her voice is even and free of consolation. “It’s not your fault.” 

“I should have been there,” Maze snarls. 

Chloe tightens her grip on Lucifer’s hand. “You can’t just follow him around everywhere he goes, Maze.” 

“I did before," she replies mulishly. She plunks herself down next to Trixie. Her daughter shuffles over to Maze and leans her head on her shoulder. 

“Lucifer will be okay,” Trixie says. Maze grumpily puts her arm around the girl and pulls her closer into her side. Amenadiel smiles at the picture they make and Maze glares at him, daring him to say anything. 

There’s not much more they can do right now besides wait. 

Dan visits when his shift at work ends. He’d been getting updates on Lucifer’s condition from Chloe and thankfully doesn’t ask her any further questions. He reaches down and takes a sleeping Trixie off of Maze’s lap. 

“I’ll take her to my place, get her to bed,” he tells Chloe, easily hefting her small weight.

Chloe gives him a grateful look. “Thanks, Dan.”

“You need anything else?” he asks her, eyes serious. She’s glad he hasn’t made a fuss about her staying with Lucifer, feels warmth in her chest at his support.

“No, I’m fine,” she tells him, even though it feels false in her mouth. 

“Alright,” he responds, sounding like he doesn’t really believe her. 

“Daddy?” Trixie asks, still mostly asleep. She nuzzles against his shoulder.

“Hey, there, monkey. You ready for bed?”

She shakes her head no and promptly drops back into sleep. Dan and Chloe share a small smile. 

“Keep me posted.” Dan nods at Lucifer.

“I will,” Chloe says.

“Me too,” Maze says, getting to her feet.

“You’re leaving?” Amenadiel asks, sounding surprised.

“Well, it’s not like as if there’s any danger to him here,” Maze retorts. “And Lux will need tending to in his absence.”

“Don’t kill anyone,” Chloe says, seeing through Maze’s malice, seeing the restless and helpless energy plaguing her friend.

Maze grins, sharp and cold. “No promises,” and leaves just behind Dan. 

It’s a few hours after that when Chloe yawns for the third time in a row. Her backside has gone solidly numb and the lulling quiet and constant hum of machines has begun to lull her into sleep. She rubs fingers against her eyes and wonders if they’re still serving coffee at the cafeteria. 

“You should go home,” Amenadiel says, holding up a placating hand when she goes to protest instinctively. “No, I mean it. You’ve been here almost all night. Go home and take a shower. Get some rest,” he tells her gently. “If only for a little while.”

“But -” Chloe starts.

“Lucifer wouldn’t want you to neglect yourself, Chloe.” 

Chloe sags. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Yeah, okay.” She stands and gathers her things and then realizes she has no way home.

“Here,” Amenadiel says, handing her the keys to his car. “It’s the grey Challenger on level B1,” he tells her.

“What about you?” she asks, concerned.

“I intend to watch over him through the night,” he tells her. 

Her eyes soften and she steps forward to hug him. “Thank you. I’m glad someone will be here with him.”

Amenadiel returns the pressure and then grips her shoulders. “Go and rest. Return first thing in the morning, if you must.”

“I will,” Chloe confirms.

*

Amenadiel watches her go. He waits long enough that she should be in his car and on her way home. Then he stands. He walks carefully over to his brother’s bed. It’s...wrong. Seeing him so vulnerable, so broken. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of Lucifer’s chest, Amenadiel might think him dead. 

It goes against everything Amenadiel knows. He reaches out to touch Lucifer and stops just before he makes contact. He clenches his hand into a fist and pulls it back. The soft beeping of the machine keeping track of his brother’s heart rate stays steady and persistent.

“You can wake up now, brother,” Amenadiel tells him. Chloe and her influence are gone now, he should be getting better. 

Lucifer stays silent and still against the sheets. 

Amenadiel sighs and returns to his chair. He stays, falling into a light doze every now and again. The nurses wake him up when they come in periodically to check on Lucifer, though they don’t mean to. They check his pulse, his eyes, other things that mean nothing to Amenadiel, but must hold some significance. 

Amenadiel watches and waits. It’s in the wee hours of the morning when Lucifer makes a noise. It’s small and quiet, but Amenadiel jolts to his feet, making the short distance to his brother’s bedside in two long strides. Lucifer’s eyes are moving underneath his lids, quick flickers before going still once more. 

Amenadiel alerts a nurse who comes in and checks over Lucifer, shining a light in his eyes, talking to see if he will wake, gently shaking a shoulder. Still nothing. 

“It’s a good sign,” she tells him. “It’s not like in the movies, patients coming awake with a gasp, all at once. It’s a slow, sometimes faltering process. Keep note if he does anything else,” she instructs. Her manner is no-nonsense, but her eyes are kind. 

Amenadiel nods seriously. Lucifer starts making noises at more regular intervals, eyelids fluttering. They open briefly, a doctor is actually in the room in time to catch it, and though Lucifer’s eyes remain blank and staring, he does turn his head a bit at Amenadiel’s voice.

After that, Lucifer’s arms start twitching with unrealized impulses of movement that gradually get more and more coordinated. He makes a clumsy swipe at the oxygen tube resting under his nose, but stops at a gentle redirection from Amenadiel.

He still isn’t responding to questions and flits in and out of consciousness, but the doctors seem surprised and relieved by the progress. In the passing hours Lucifer soon has his eyes open more than they are shut. They get him sitting up, propping his back with pillows, and remove the oxygen tube. He keeps his eyes on Amenadiel most of the time, but randomly he’ll follow a nurse bustling around the room with his eyes.

*

The light though the window brightens and Maze shows up in the same clothes she wore yesterday, just more mussed. Her hair is pulled back and Amenadiel doesn’t want to know what the miscellaneous stains that darken her sleeves are. She stops at the sight of Lucifer, who turns and looks at her.

“He’s awake,” she breathes and walks quickly to him, gripping the bed rail hard enough it squeaks. “Lucifer,” she says, eyes disbelieving.

He stares back at her, brown eyes holding her own, but they remain dull and unfocused.

“Not quite yet, Maze, though the doctors are confident we will have him back with us and aware soon. Look, he’s following commands now.” Amenadiel turns his attention to Lucifer. “Can you squeeze my hand?” he asks. 

Lucifer swivels his head to gaze at Amenadiel at the sound of the question. There’s a moment where nothing happens, Lucifer stays immobile and inattentive, but slowly Lucifer’s grasp on his hand increases in pressure.

“M’ndiel,” Lucifer says, the word garbled and condensed, but clearly his brother’s name.

The doctor marvels. “I’ve seen some crazy things in my time, but the rate of his progression is nothing short of remarkable,” he tells them. “I’d say at the pace he’s coming out of it he should be functioning normally within hours.” He shakes his head, aghast.

And he does, Lucifer tracks them with clearer and clearer eyes, words coming more naturally to his voice. The doctors return, go through a series of questions and tests with him. He’s responding to stimuli, his language has smoothed out, his motor skills and responses are normal. They recheck the break in his arm to find it was only a sprain and not as serious as they had thought, the wounds on his head and face scabbed over fully. 

Finally, though, Maze and Amenadiel are given a quiet moment to talk. “He should be himself shortly, Maze,” Amenadiel says. 

“Have you called Chloe?” Maze asks.

Amenadiel shakes his head no. 

Maze gives him a narrowed eyed look. “Why not?”

“She needed her rest,” he replies calmly. “And he cannot heal as quickly in her presence.”

Maze doesn’t say anything, but something hard has settled into her posture. “Fair enough. But he is nearly well, now,” Maze replies. “I will call her and get a change of clothes for Lucifer. No way he’s staying in that dress a moment longer than he has to and I don’t want to hear him whine.”

“Forward thinking, Maze,” Amenadiel says, but his praise means nothing to her.

Maze stands and pulls out her phone. Amenadiel watches Lucifer watch Maze, his eyes trailing the demon as she exits.

“Maze is a confounding creature,” he says to Lucifer. There’s a spark of something behind his eyes, just for a moment. Lucifer’s gaze grows more lucid by the minute, but repairing the damage done to him is exhaustive work and he falls into a nap, soaking in the sunshine from the window.

Chloe arrives not even half an hour later, face scrubbed clean of makeup, eyes searching out Lucifer. She approaches the bed and looks to Amenadiel.

“How is he?” she asks, desperate.

Amenadiel grins. “He’s been awake for short periods of time, but he’s nearly fully conscious and aware. The doctor’s say that there might be some finer motor control issues at first, maybe some memory difficulties, but that overall, he should be just fine.”

She sinks down into the seat, relieved. She reaches over and takes Lucifer’s hand, threading their fingers together. Chloe sits with Amenadiel for a while, both of them enjoying the peace and quiet with Lucifer.

An hour or so later and Lucifer’s eyes flutter open. It’s not coming awake with a gasp, but there’s a definite moment when his eyes suddenly sharpen and his body stiffens. His brother is here with them once again. Amenadiel is as certain of it as he is of the stars in the sky.

“Welcome back, brother,” he says warmly.

“Amenadiel,” he answers, clear but confused. He looks around the room, eyebrows crinkling up in perplexity.

Chloe smiles at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I tried to fly through a solar storm,” he says, hand pressing to his head.

“Do you recall anything about what happened?” Chloe asks, voice soft. 

“I - ” Lucifer looks at her with unbridled confusion. “I’m sorry, who are you?” He pulls his hand away. 

She blinks, looking hurt. “It’s me, Chloe.” When his expression doesn’t change, she continues. “Detective Decker.” Her voice cracks. “Lucifer, _please_.” 

“Why do you call me that?” he asks. Amenadiel gets to his feet, a slow realization niggling at the back of his mind.

“What?” Chloe asks, now her turn to be confused. 

“Why do you call me Lucifer?”

“It’s your name,” she says slowly. 

“No, it’s not.” he replies. He looks around and focuses his sight of his brother, essentially dismissing Chloe in preference for Amenadiel. “Brother, where am I?”

Amenadiel steps forward and places a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, half comforting, half restraining. She glances up at him and then back to Lucifer, eyes panicked.

“You’re at a hospital, a place of healing. What’s the last thing you remember?” Amenadiel says as carefully as he can. 

Lucifer looks baffled at this line of questioning, but answers honestly. He always answers honestly. 

“Well, Mother and Father were fighting, but that’s nothing new.” Lucifer says and nearly rolls his eyes. “Father was off tinkering with humanity and you were delivering a message to some of the lower garrison.”

“Do you remember what message?” Amenadiel’s lungs feel tight.

“Something about warning the young ones to not get caught in the gravity wells. Uriel is just beginning to fly.”

Something breaks in Amenadiel’s chest, but he shoves it down to be dealt with at a later time. And that’s not the worst of it, because if that’s the last thing his brother remembers then this isn’t Lucifer in front of him, this is Samael. _Sammy_. Before the rebellion, before the Fall. Before everything went so terribly wrong. 

Amenadiel isn’t sure how to comprehend it. Some of it must show on his face because Lucifer instantly becomes concerned. 

“Something bad has happened, hasn’t it?” 

“You... have been injured. Quite some time has passed since Uriel was a fledgling,” Amenadiel tries to say as gently as possible. 

“How much time?” Lucifer, _Samael_ , asks. 

“Millennia,” Amenadiel answers honestly. 

Lucifer brings a hand up to press against his head, shocked. “How? Who could do such a thing?” 

“You were hit with a car,” Chloe says, leaning forward. She’s apparently elected to ignore their conversation as nonsense. “And you don’t remember anything?”

“I remember quite a bit, thank you,” he retorts. “Just apparently nothing recent.”

“I’m getting the doctor,” Chloe says abruptly and stands. She glances over at Amenadiel.

“I will continue to keep watch,” he answers and she nods. She casts a final, worried look at Lucifer before she goes.

“Who is she, brother?” Lucifer asks, dark eyes trusting and warm in a way they haven’t been in eons. 

“She is a human, a detective for the LAPD.” At Lucifer’s continued expression of polite bafflement, Amenadiel clarifies. “She punishes the wicked.” Amenadiel watches that get a reaction, a flickering in Lucifer’s eyes.

He’d been a punisher as Samael as well, after all.

“Is that why she is here? To punish those who injured me?” he asks. 

“She was with you when you were hurt,” Amenadiel sidesteps the question. “Perhaps she will involve herself in the hunt for the perpetrators, but there are others searching.”

“So they remain free and undisciplined,” Lucifer says, something dark and intent in his voice.

“Yes,” Amenadiel admits.

“Well, that ought to be rectified.” Lucifer sits up and tries to stand and Amenadiel is not quick enough to stop him. Lucifer gets to his feet and freezes. He slowly reaches toward his back, fingers trembling. 

“My wings, brother,” he croaks, “my _wings_.” And this isn’t the snarky, ill-disguised panic Lucifer had felt when they had gone missing. This is full blown terror. 

“Hey, hey.” Amenadiel reaches for him and Lucifer scrabbles at his brother, seeking an anchor, seeking contact. Lucifer is wild eyed and his legs aren’t holding his weight properly. Amenadiel sinks down with him, hushing gently as Lucifer quakes against the wall. “ _Peace, brother_ ,” he says in the Heavenly Tongue. It feels almost foreign in his mouth, but still melodious and beautiful. “ _Peace_.”

Lucifer latches onto it like a drowning man. Amenadiel shakes him gently, grounding him, and switches back to English. “It’s alright. I don’t have mine either.” 

That only serves to make him go from terror to horror. “ _What_?” he breathes, aghast. “I don’t understand. Why would Father _do that?”_

Amenadiel thinks fast, trying to come up with a narrative that is believable enough. “We have been sent to earth,” he says slowly. “To learn.” 

“What could we possibly glean from these insipid creatures,” Lucifer snarls weakly, still rattled.

“There is much we can gain from the humans. Father has promised to return our wings when we have understood the lesson.” 

Something hurt and angry screws up in Lucifer’s face before its carefully tucked away and Amenadiel wonders at it, that the seeds of his eventual Fall were already planted so early. “So it is punishment,” he says, clipped. 

“No, Sam, ” Amenadiel says, and the old nickname for his brother scalds his tongue. “It is an opportunity.”

Lucifer looks doubtful. 

“Have I ever failed in my purpose?” Amenadiel asks. 

“No. You’re an obedient son,” Lucifer says, and to him, this is truth. Amenadiel’s mouth twists with bitterness. 

“So why would He punish me?” And wasn’t that a loaded question. 

Still, it seems to have settled his brother, the bruising grip loosening. “Right, of course. But then...Why do this?” 

“I am the First,” Amenadiel says, a mantle that will never leave his shoulders. “And you,” he gives his brother a friendly shake and smiles. “Are the brightest. That is why we have been chosen to come here.” 

“And live wingless amongst the humans?” Lucifer says with disgust. 

“You might find yourself liking it,” Amenadiel laughs at the way Lucifer’s nose crinkles, hauling him to his feet. 

“I rather doubt that,” Lucifer replies. 

He locks eyes with his brother, gripping his shoulder tight. “Just remember that you and I must stick together while on earth,” he says, trying to impart how important this is. “We can only trust each other.” He gives Lucifer a shake before stepping away. 

“Of course.” Lucifer eyes are wide and almost naive. Amenadiel can hardly remember the last time his brother had looked like that. 

Chloe walks in, “The doctor will be here in a moment,” she says. She takes them in. “Everything okay?” 

“He’s fine,” Amenadiel says, dodging the question. “Except for his memory.”

“In any case, we should let the doctors examine you,” Chloe says, attention directed to Lucifer. 

“What difference will that make?” Lucifer asks disparagingly. “As if you could comprehend our makeup.”

Maybe it’s Lucifer ignoring her, or his casual disregard of her advice, but Chloe’s jaw clenches and she steps forward. 

“You _will_ sit here, Morningstar, and _you_ will let the doctors look over you, so help me god.”

Lucifer draws himself up, somehow intimidating despite the paper gown, something affronted and pious in his stature.

“Very well,” Amenadiel cuts in quickly and Lucifer blinks in surprise, deflating. He turns to his younger brother. “It cannot harm anything to ensure your health.”

Lucifer nods, accepting his judgment without a fight and something inside Amenadiel twists with melancholy. “As you wish,” Lucifer replies and he takes a seat on his bed, waiting with aloof patience. 

Chloe wraps her arms around herself and her shoulders tremble. Amenadiel doesn’t know how to offer comfort. 

Lucifer puts up with the various tests, questions and examinations the doctors put him through, only once getting frustrated when there’s brief talk of psychiatric help needed when asked about his past memories and his talk of the Silver City, but he goes quiet at a word from Amenadiel, letting him answer many of the questions. 

Chloe listens to the diagnosis with laser focus. 

“It appears Mr. Morningstar has retrograde amnesia as a result of the head trauma acquired from the car accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Chloe snaps and the doctor hesitates. Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, doctor. Please continue.”

“Well, it’s not entirely unexpected. Patients who suffered the amount of trauma as Mr. Morningstar often experience some form of memory loss, though usually not so severe.”

“Is there any kind of treatment?” Chloe asks. 

“I’m afraid there’s not much we can do,” the doctor says apologetically. “The good news is that typically amnesia caused by injury is transient and many cases resolve on their own. Unfortunately, since the loss of memory goes as far back as...” He looks at his notes. “Late teens, early adulthood, there’s no guarantee of recovery. The longer it takes for memories to return, the less likely it will be that he will remember them at all. Then again, we didn’t expect him to recover so quickly and regain consciousness.”

“So there’s nothing we can do?” Chloe asks, sounding distressed.

The doctor shrugs. “Try taking him to places that are familiar to him. If it isn’t traumatic to him, revisit the scene of the incident. See if things like that will jog memories loose. Try not to overwhelm him. If he experiences severe head pain, or unabating dizziness, bring him back in. Other than that, he’s remarkably healthy, considering. It appears the rest of his injuries are superficial. We have no further reason to keep him.” 

“Thank you,” Chloe says politely.

The Doctor gives Chloe a sheet with details of care, shakes Chloe and Amenadiel’s hand, wishes Mr. Morningstar the best, and takes his leave.

Chloe doesn’t reach out for Lucifer, though it’s clear she wants to. He looks down at her with an expression of confusion, but doesn’t move away. “I know this is probably strange and scary, but know that I am here for you no matter what, okay?” she tells him, intent. “So if you’re not comfortable or you don’t want to do something, I need you to tell me.”

“Alright,” Lucifer says slowly, studying her with furrowed brow. He looks over at Amenadiel, clearly confused. The idea of choice must seem strange to him. 

That’s when Maze returns, a bag in her hand. Instantly, Lucifer’s fingers are locked around Chloe’s wrist like iron, tugging her behind his back. 

Amenadiel wonders at that, if protecting Chloe is an instinct wired so deeply into his brother where not even memory loss can touch it.

“Stay back, creature,” Lucifer growls, threat in his voice, every line in his body pulled taut. 

“Easy, brother,” Amenadiel soothes, even as goosebumps break out against his spine. It’s been a long while since he’d heard his brother use that tone of voice, threat and righteous power. “She may be a demon, but there’s no danger.”

“No danger!” he protests. “Look at her. She is an abhorrence! _Anathema_!” 

“So, it’s true,” Maze says, voice quiet. Her eyes flick briefly to Chloe’s and then back to Lucifer. “You don’t remember?”

“He doesn't,” Amenadiel answers for him, a unvoiced warning in his eyes. 

Maze ignores him and steps forward. She speaks in a language that is guttural and harsh, an Infernal dialect, her eyes never leaving Lucifer’s. He goes still. Intent on her.

“That’s _enough_ ,” Amenadiel says firmly, trying to pull his brother back, not liking any of this one bit. 

Lucifer shakes him off. “Again,” Lucifer commands, voice hard. 

Maze repeats the words, just as foreign as before, but something like hope shimmers in her eyes. 

“What is she saying?” Amenadiel demands, panic nipping at his heels. Maze could easily pull apart the story he has spun. He’s finally got his brother back, he can’t lose him now. 

“They’re vows,” Lucifer says finally, words tight. “Her vows.” He shakes his head and stalks forward. “That is _slavery_ ,” he growls.

“It is _service_ ,” she corrects, voice sharp. “It was willingly done. I know it’s hard for you angels to understand the difference.”

Lucifer looks like she’s slapped him. “But why would you...” he trails off into silence.

Maze gives an insolent shrug, jaw pushed forward. “Besides. You gave me my freedom. That’s why I wasn’t there when -” she cuts off, throat working. When she speaks her words do not waver. “I should have protected you.”

He flinches away from her and presses a hand to his head in pain. Chloe is at his side instantly, concerned. “You alright?”

“Yes, fine,” he says a bit snappishly, but Chloe doesn’t allow his tone to put her off. 

Maze turns to Chloe. “How do we fix it.” 

Chloe shrugs helplessly. “There’s no guarantee that we can. His memories might return on their own. They might not.”

“Surely there is _something_ ,” Maze continues. 

Chloe hesitates and looks up at Lucifer. “Would you be willing to go back to the Festival and look around?” she asks. Lucifer doesn’t answer her, instead turning to Amenadiel for guidance.

Amenadiel remains silent. Guilt creeps in the edges of his thoughts. He isn’t sure he _wants_ Lucifer to remember. Not when remembering all the things that formed Lucifer, the things that had twisted Samael into a creature of wrath and sin, would only serve to hurt his brother, take him away.

Realizing he will get no council from Amenadiel, Lucifer is forced to answer for himself. “I -” he stops, uncertain. “I suppose so.”

“I will go with you,” Maze says. “You will not be left unprotected again.” 

Her statement makes him uncertain. “I thank you -” He halts, helpless, not knowing her name.

“Mazikeen,” she answers. “But you often call me Maze.”

“Mazikeen,” he repeats softly. “I do not need you to guard me.”

“Let me,” she says, as close to a request as she can manage. 

Lucifer pauses, his dark eyes roaming over her face, taking in her determination. “Alright.” 

She nods and politely takes a step back. “I brought you clothes,” she says and tosses him the bag. He catches it automatically and looks down at the paper gown he’s wearing. 

“Is this not...?” he starts and then takes in what everyone else is wearing. “I suppose it isn’t,” he concludes for himself. He takes the bag and looks through it.

“The bathroom is right there. Call if you need any help,” Maze directs. He nods in thanks and proceeds to the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. 

The moment he’s gone Chloe makes a quiet gasping noise, a half swallowed sob, as her control starts to crack. Maze steps forward and wraps her arms awkwardly around her. She pats Chloe’s back and murmurs something. Chloe grips Maze in return with white knuckles, though Maze doesn’t seem to notice. 

“C’mon, Chloe, get yourself together,” Maze says, voice tough, which Amenadiel thinks is too harsh, but the command makes Chloe nod her head. 

“He doesn’t remember,” Chloe says, sounding hoarse. “How can he not remember?”

“He doesn’t remember right now,” Maze agrees, somehow settled by whatever she had said to Lucifer in the Helltongue. “Give it some time.” 

“I just - I need a moment, okay?” Chloe requests. Maze nods and steps back while Chloe flees the room before either one of them can stop her. 

Amenadiel strides up to Maze once Chloe has left and snatches at Maze’s wrist. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

Maze regards him coolly. “I’d take your hand off me now, if I were you.”

He holds on for a moment before releasing her, unwilling to court the archdemon’s wrath.

“And I’d ask you the same thing,” Maze retorts. “What exactly are you doing? Keeping Lucifer in the dark?”

“Do you really want Lucifer back?” he asks. Maze opens her mouth to answer, but he barrells on. “I know you care for him, Maze. In your own way. So don’t lie to me and say you would want him to remember all the horrible things that happened to him. He has a chance to start over here, Maze,” Amenadiel says, ernest. “Samael doesn’t need to know what happened.”

She looks at him blankly for a moment before her expression devolves into one of disgust. “It must be a terrible place,” she says. “To be inside your mind.”

“You mustn’t tell him,” Amenadiel says, face suddenly thunderous.

“I am not yours to command,” Maze snarls. “And what happens when he remembers, huh?” she asks.

“There’s no guarantee that he will.” 

“You’re right,” Maze lifts her chin. “It’s completely out of our hands,” she replies, saying it like it means she’s won, victorious. She grins, all teeth. “Doesn’t that just terrify you?”

Amenadiel feels something uneasy build in his stomach before he shoves it away. He’s saved from answering by the bathroom door opening, their attention turning.

Lucifer comes out of the room, fully dressed, but looking terribly uncertain. He even attempted to smooth down his hair, though it remains more unruly and curly than usual without product in it. It’s a bit jarring for Amenadiel, so used to picturing Samael in his heavenly robes and Lucifer in his suits, to see one in the other...is off putting. 

“Look at you,” Maze says appreciatively. 

Lucifer looks down at his waistcoat, smoothing a hand down the front. “These garments are strange, but it was if...it was as if my hands _knew_ what to do,” Lucifer replies, something disquieted in his eyes. 

Maze smirks at Amenadiel. He ignores her. 

“You don’t have to go to -” Amenadiel tries to persuade, now that Chloe cannot sway his brother, but he’s not fast enough and Chloe has returned, eyes red rimmed but clear. Lucifer’s form swivels towards her.

“Are you ready?” she asks, making eye contact with him.

Lucifer considers her question with uncharacteristic solemnity. “Yes, I believe so.” 

“Then let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh amenadiel :(


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe takes Lucifer back to the Harvest Festival to see if it jogs any memories loose, Amenadiel does his best to persuade his brother and Samael starts putting some things together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, first off, sorry for the delay, but the chapter clocks in at 7.5k words, so hopefully that makes up for it
> 
> secondly, i don't speak spanish, so if there's any errors - that's on me
> 
> thirdly, thank you for all the lovely comments and feedback! You guys are great :D

Lucifer looks at the car like he’s never seen one before. He flexes his shoulders and grimaces. He gets inside of it slowly, trepidatiously, folding himself in Chloe’s passenger seat. Maze and Amenadiel pile in the back and grumpily stare out their own windows.

“Seatbelt,” she tells him, and he carefully examines the way she draws it over her own body before clicking the buckle. He copies her and grins a little in victory to himself when he successfully latches the seatbelt.

Lucifer startles when she turns the engine on, gripping quickly at his seat. He gradually relaxes as she flows into traffic, his eyes wide, absorbing everything around him. 

She takes care to drive as smoothly as she can so as not to alarm him. She doesn’t have his parking lot connections this time, but there are more spots available, even if she has to shell out some cash to get one. 

Lucifer exits the vehicle, gazing towards the cluster of booths and buildings that make up the market. 

“Any of this seem familiar?” Maze asks, jostling him in a friendly sort of manner. 

“No,” he answers and blinks at her. 

“Come on, let’s get going,” Chloe says, ignoring the pang of sadness in her chest, leading them into the Festival.

Lucifer easily falls into step beside her. Is it just coincidence or is it some sort of muscle memory?

“Miss Decker, if I may ask a question?” he voices. 

She snorts, “First off, call me Chloe. Miss Decker reminds me too much of my mother.”

He looks flummoxed, but acquiesces. “Chloe,” he sounds out slowly, and it makes a shiver go down her spine at hearing him speak her given name, an odd Pavlovian response he’s unintentionally trained in her.

“What was your question?” she prompts in an effort to distract herself. 

“What is this festival for?” he asks. 

“Honestly, you would have known better than I would,” she says with a sad smile. 

“Knowledgeable about such things, am I?” 

She huffs a bit of a laugh. “You’re knowledgeable about most things.” 

He preens a little at her words. Apparently, he’s still vain. 

“But the simple answer I guess is that it’s in celebration of the harvest season,” she explains. 

“Ah,” he nods. “And you and I attended this event for what purpose?” 

She hesitates, unsure of what to say, how exactly to handle this situation with as limited fallout as possible. 

“For fun,” she settles on. 

This answer seems to perplexed him far more than she would have thought. 

“For _fun_?” he repeats, seemingly baffled. 

“Yeah,” she nods. “We rode the rides, ate good food, enjoyed the music.” 

“There was no set objective to accomplish?” He looks hopelessly taken aback. 

She doesn’t know how to respond to that. “Did there need to be?” she asks.

He pushes a hand through his hair, stunned. “I... guess not,” he answers slowly, as if the idea has only just occurred to him. What kind of childhood did he have where fun is a strange concept to him? 

She wants to take him by the hand and show him everything life here has to offer, the joy and the love and the freedom. 

But he shoves his confusion behind a blank mask. It’s not as seamless or as complete as _her_ Lucifer’s, but it’s familiar enough for her to know now is not the time to offer comfort. 

He would only refuse it. 

Chloe swallows and doesn’t say anything when his pace starts to slow from hers, his eyes far away. 

Maze is suddenly there at her side instead. 

“Everything alright?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Chloe gives her a quicksilver smile. “Yeah, everything is fine.” 

Maze snorts. 

“Okay, maybe not _fine_ ,” Chloe concedes. “But it’s not something that can be helped.” 

“Do you think if I hit him over the head really hard, his memories might come back?” Maze suggests, but there’s something in the line of her limbs, the cant of her chin, that says she’s joking. 

“Maze!” Chloe protests, a laugh bubbling up despite herself. 

“What?” she responds, smiling now. “I’m just saying.”

“Let’s try to _avoid_ damaging him further.”

Maze blows a scornful breath through her lips. “You’re no fun, Decker.”

*

Amenadiel intentionally lets Maze and Chloe drift ahead in an attempt to get his brother somewhat alone, letting the crowds thread in between, separating them. Lucifer looks oddly introspective, not a look he has very often. 

“Samael,” Amenadiel says. “Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve only just been released from the hospital, it would be more than fine for you to rest before undertaking such a venture. You could stay with me!” Amenadiel tells him, like it’s only occurred to him in this moment. “I would never object to your company.”

Lucifer studies him for a moment that feels longer than it is. “I thank you for your offer, Amenadiel. But if Father wants us to learn from our experiences here on earth, I think it is important for me to recover them, if I can. Don’t you?” He turns his big brown eyes to Amenadiel.

Damn. Amenadiel had forgotten how earnest Sam used to be. He can’t very well advocate for Lucifer to ignore their Father’s directive after being the one to make him believe it.

“Of course, Samael. Forgive me, I hadn’t considered that.”

“Brother, I must ask you,” Lucifer starts and Amenadiel forces his expression into one of calm. Lucifer’s eyes rest forward, toward Chloe and Mazikeen. “The other two do not use my name. They call me Lucifer.” He sounds intrigued.

Amenadiel clears his throat. “Well...yes. They do. It’s a nickname, of sorts. I think the name Samael disturbs them, honestly. I wouldn’t bring it up around them if I were you,” he cautions. 

Lucifer ponders on this, eyebrows crinkling in distress. “I see. Well, I suppose Lucifer _is_ fitting, I was the one instructed to set the stars ablaze after all.” 

Amenadiel claps his brother’s shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” He looks into his brother’s eyes seriously. “I, however, am not bothered by your name, Samael, nor the role you serve.” 

Lucifer inclines his head. “Thank you, brother. You don’t know what that means to me.” 

Amenadiel basks in this feeling of brotherly affection, their sibling bond restored to its former glory. 

“I am curious,” Lucifer starts and Amenadiel turns to him attentively. “Mazikeen...” he pauses, searching for the right words. “How did she come into my care?” 

“You...found her,” Amenadiel says slowly. He doesn’t exactly know how and when Lucifer and his right hand demon formed their partnership, so he must keep it vague. 

“On earth?” he asks. 

Amenadiel studies him. The question seems too innocent, but Samael’s beatific face looks back at him. Of course, he is just seeing Lucifer’s duplicity in Samael’s virtue. He shakes it off.

“Yes,” Amenadiel says, the lie sitting uncomfortably in his mouth. “I believe you pitied her,” he says slowly, warming to his narrative.

“I suppose that’s why I accepted her vow of service,” Lucifer says, voice light.

“Yes,” Amenadiel says, pleased that his brother believes him. “You were more compassionate than I would have been.” He squeezes Lucifer’s shoulder. 

Lucifer returns the expression. “I doubt that. There is no one more caring than you, Amenadiel.” 

“Hey!” Chloe calls to them, looking irritated. They both look over to her. She stalks forward. “What are you doing?” she chides Amenadiel. 

Amenadiel dips his head. “My apologies. I simply didn’t want to tax my brother with too quick of a pace.”

Chloe unwinds just a little, a flicker of embarrassment in her face. “Right. Well, stay close where I can keep track of everyone, okay?”

“Of course,” Amenadiel agrees, all meek obedience. Lucifer watches the interaction with interest.

“Is there a reason we are listening to her?” Lucifer asks Amenadiel, genuinely inquisitive, not mean-spirited. 

Amenadiel, instead of answering, simply considers Chloe. Then he turns to Lucifer. “That’s an excellent question. Why do you think?” Lucifer scowls, but Amenadiel only smiles. “Consider this a teaching moment,” he tells him.

Then it’s Lucifer’s turn to eye Chloe and she folds her arms defensively, clearly not liking this one bit. 

“Well, she _is_ exceedingly beautiful.” Lucifer says it like it’s fact, like it’s nothing. Chloe’s cheeks go pink, but tilts her chin up defiantly. “But you would never be swayed by such things,” Lucifer says hurriedly.

“I am not above appreciating the beauty of our Father’s creations, but no. That isn’t why,” Amenadiel answers, amused at his faint discomfiture. 

Lucifer thinks for a moment, brow crinkling. “She’s human and thus understands humans.” 

“Now, you’re on the right track,” Amenadiel praises and Lucifer looks pleasantly surprised to have received it. 

“She has shown a sort of protectiveness towards us and is clearly in possession of intelligence and keen instincts,” he says.

Amenadiel smirks. “For a human, Detective Decker is rather exceptional.” 

Lucifer studies her and she huffs and levels a glare at them. “Yes. I am beginning to see that.”

“One might almost say she’s a miracle,” Maze says tauntingly, eyes on Amenadiel. 

His expression falls briefly and he smiles tightly at her. “Indeed.” 

Chloe glances in between the two of them, suddenly concerned at the hostility. 

Maze slides her eyes to Lucifer. “Do you know much about miracles, Lucifer?”

He looks politely interested. “I’ve seen my father cause a few.”

Amenadiel slings an arm over Lucifer’s shoulder. “Ah, yes. We saw a great many things in the Silver City, where _we are from._ ” He grins wide and false at Maze, teeth gritted.

Lucifer looks looks mildly troubled by the sudden bout of affection. “Amenadiel, are you well?”

“I’m fine,” he replies, eyes still on Maze. “Just thinking about our long history together as brothers.”

“Right,” Lucifer says slowly, easing from underneath Amenadiel’s touch and stepping away from them both.

Maze hums, her gaze cruel. “I’m sure Lucifer will have some thoughts on that when he remembers the rest of your history.”

“ _If_ he remembers,” Amenadiel snaps.

“Alright that’s enough,” Chloe says. 

*

She doesn’t know what is going on between Amenadiel and Maze, but she’s had enough of it. She steps forward and takes each one by the wrist and firmly drags them a few feet away.

“Okay, I don’t know what _the hell_ is going on between you two, but you need to knock it off right now,” Chloe demands, her voice low and irritated. As if she doesn’t have enough to deal with right now and their arguing is upsetting Lucifer.

“I would if this - this _termagant_ would just leave things as they are,” Amenadiel hisses.

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Chloe replies.

“Insult me all you like, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re wrong.” Maze juts her chin forward. 

“Wrong about what?” Chloe asks, startling to loose her hold on her temper. 

Maze flicks her gaze to Chloe. “Amenadiel thinks we should keep the truth from Lucifer.” 

“All I’m saying is that it’s not fair to burden him with all the painful things he went through when he doesn’t remember them!” he protests. 

“Oh, and it’s just convenient that you get a prepackaged brother that actually _likes_ you,” Maze snarls in return.

“You just want your Lord and Master back, you don’t care for how the knowledge will affect him,” he accuses.

Maze’s face twists. “You dare insinuate that I don’t care for him when you deceive and manipulate him at every turn?” 

Amenadiel scoffs and looks away, dismissing her. Maze grits her teeth and takes an aggressive step forward, refusing to be ignored.

Chloe sighs and presses her fingers into the spots of her head that are slowly developing a migraine. She needs to put a stop to this before she ends up with a brawl in the middle of the farmer’s market on her hands. “Amenadiel might have a point,” she says. 

Amenadiel grins, chest puffed out. 

“You think we should lie to him?” Maze says, sounding betrayed. 

“No.” The word cracks out of her like a whip. “I will _never_ lie to Lucifer.” Her words are just a little too intense. Chloe pulls herself back a notch. “But we can’t just throw everything on him at once.” 

“So what would you have me do?” Maze retorts insolently. 

Chloe thinks for a moment. “We wait until he asks,” she decides. “When he wants to know, you can tell him the truth.” She looks at Amenadiel. “Not a version of it. The _actual_ truth. Whatever that is. Alright?”

Maze’s jaw works. “Fine,” she agrees tersely. 

Chloe looks at Amenadiel, glaring. “Amenadiel?” She raises a brow, daring him to say otherwise.

“Very well,” he says stiffly. 

“Good,” Chloe says, closing the matter. She looks up, gazes at the spot Lucifer’s tall form _should_ be and freezes. There’s no one there. “Where’s Lucifer?” she asks, sudden panic gripping at her lungs.

She strides quickly over to where she had left him. “Lucifer?” she calls, ignoring the strange looks she was getting. “ _Lucifer_!” She scans the tops of the crowds but sees nothing. 

*

Samael watches Chloe as she berates his brother and Maze, a bit relieved that they are no longer engaged in their incomprehensible bickering. He takes in their body language, examines it. For all that Amenadiel pretends at authority, he is deferring to Chloe, something he hasn’t seen Amenadiel to for anyone other than Mother and Father. 

It is telling.

It means, despite his words, Amenadiel views her as the person in charge, a clear chain of command - and that’s something Samael understands. Even the demon, though allegedly sworn in service to him, listens and obeys. 

There is a troubling dissonance between words and deeds as of late. 

Soon enough he grows bored and is distracted from observing the odd trio by the sights and smells around him. The human crowds are noisy, loud in a way that is constant and pressing against his senses. Yet, he can’t seem to help being drawn in. It’s so _different_. 

The smell of something delicious and organic drifts through his nose and he swivels his head to catch the direction of it. His feet seem to move on their own, following it. 

He darts past humans and booths, making his way blindly forward. He’s led down an aisle, stalls full of fruits and vegetables. He bumps into a person’s shoulder and it jars him out of his reverie, the smell drifting away as if it were never there. 

He blinks and looks around and sees nothing recognizable. There’s no sign of his brother, the woman, or the demon. That’s...not good. He’s hopelessly lost and, without his wings, he can’t fly upwards to get his bearings. Something akin to anxiety shivers down his spine. He shakes it off. He’s an immortal archangel, nothing bad will happen to him. 

“Hey! Estrella de la mañana!” 

He spins on his foot. _Morningstar_ , that’s him. He’s never heard his moniker in that human tongue before, but his mind knows the meaning of it. An old woman with brown colored skin wearing a floral shirt and a wide brimmed hat waves at him. He doesn’t know her, but there’s something welcoming about her. 

He slowly points to himself in confusion. She nods and gestures him over. “¡Ven! ¡Ven!” He obediently walks to her stall.

She gasps at the sight of him and reaches out, pulling him closer by a strong tug of his sleeve, her wizened eyes creased with concern. She looks him over, fingers fluttering at the bruise across his cheek, the scrapes against his forehead, tutting. Strangely, he doesn’t feel accosted, despite his preferences for others to stay out of his space.

“¿Qué pasó, mijo?” 

He blinks a little at the familiarity, but reaches up and lightly touches the scab on his head. He winces at the unexpected flash of pain. “Un accidente.”

“¿Estás bien?” she asks.

“Estoy teniendo problemas con mi memoria. ¿Estuve aquí ayer?” he asks. Perhaps she can tell him a bit more about what he was doing here. 

She nods. “Sí, señor. Usted y su hermosa esposa.”

Instantly, his expression shifts. “Esposa?” That...that couldn’t be right. The woman must be mistaken. No one...no one could care for him like that.

“Sí,” she responds, looking more and more worried at the lack of comprehension. “La mujer rubia.”

“Ah,” he responds, “Perdón.” He gestures to his head. 

She gives him a look of sympathy. “Lo siento.” She gets up suddenly and bustles around her booth until she finds a carton of apples. “Aquí,” she says and hands it to him. He takes it on automatic and looks down at it. “Come y mantente fuerte.” She pats his hand.

Her generosity overwhelms him. “Muchas gracias.” 

“De nada,” she replies, eyes sparkling. Then she shoos him off.

He continues walking back in the direction he thinks he’s come from with the carton of apples in his hands. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with it. Does he eat them? Give them up as an offering? That’s when the human woman, _Chloe_ , he reminds himself, suddenly appears. She grabs at his arm, nearly upending his fruit.

“Lucifer!” she says, her grip tight, her eyes frantic. “Where were you?” she demands.

He gestures back towards the booth. “I was just -” but then she’s pressing herself against him, arms around his sides, body lined up with his, and he’s not entirely sure what she’s doing, but...it’s nice. She pulls back before he can properly categorize what just happened and then he’s alarmed to see tears in her eyes. “God, you _scared_ me.”

“Why?” he asks, baffled. How could he have frightened her? He didn’t think he’d done anything deserving of fear. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” she tells him. 

“Brother, _don’t_ wander off.” Amenadiel is there now, the sharp reprimand falling from his lips. 

Samael smothers the sense of indignation that flares hot and sudden in his chest, letting his face go contrite. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to cause concern.”

Maze seems rather blasé about his brief adventure for a creature that’s supposed to be protecting him. “Whatchya got there? ” she asks, nodding to his carton. 

“A woman gave it to me.” 

Chloe pushes a hand against her face with a mutter that sounds like _of course._

“Apples?” Amenadiel questions, though he can clearly _see_ that they are apples. 

“A bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Maze says with sudden sharpness, her eyes on his brother. 

Amenadiel ignores the demon and reaches out to pluck one from the stack. He examines it critically.

“I suppose the strawberries are no longer in season,” Samael says mostly to himself and then blinks.

Amenadiel takes a bite of apple and chews loudly. 

*

Chloe keeps a close eye on him after that to ensure he wouldn’t wander off. Lucifer with all his faculties could stray all he liked, able to know where his home was, or where she would be, and able to get himself there. 

This Lucifer? Not so much. She ought to do something about that. Have him memorize his address and hers. Teach him how to recognize which people he could go to and ask for help. It’s almost like dealing with Trixie. A six foot tall, ridiculously handsome, incredibly confounding...Trixie. 

Right.

It’s because she’s watching him so closely that she sees him go from fascinated by the noise and people to gradually flinching from it.

Amenadiel has taken her rebuke poorly, lagging behind and generally ignoring them, munching unhappily on his apple. Maze is only slightly better, falling just behind Lucifer and keeping a sharp eye on the crowds after she had finished pouting. Neither one of them seem to have noticed that Lucifer has stopped enjoying himself.

“Hey,” she calls gently, getting Lucifer's attention. He looks down at her from the side of his eye, head tilted just slightly. The line of his back has gone stiff and his movements more and more controlled.

Chloe reaches for him, telegraphing her motion so he has time to refuse. He doesn’t. She closes her hand carefully around his arm. She takes him aside, pulling him out of the throng of people, sliding her hand down to his wrist, rubbing a soothing thumb against the soft skin at his pulse point. 

“You alright?” she asks him, eyes intent on his expression.

“I -” he starts and looks out into the crowds passing by. “There are so many of you,” he says, eyes wide, looking overwhelmed.

“Is it not like that where you are from?” she asks, too curious to stop herself. What must it be like where crowds and people are something unusual?

“The Silver City is expansive and quiet. Except for when we sing, but even that is rare of late,” he replies.

Chloe intentionally pulls a face. “Sounds boring.” It startles a laugh out of him, which had been her goal, distracting him. 

“Yes, sometimes it is.” He gives her a soft look. “I do my best to keep my brothers and sisters on their toes.”

“I bet so.”

Her thumb is still stroking his wrist. “Are you okay to go back out there?” she asks him. “When you answer, I want you to tell me the truth,” Chloe requests quietly. 

He looks at her and his eyes still hold that heartbreaking lack of recognition, but there’s something else there now. Something like trust. 

“I - I don’t know,” he tells her the truth. “I don’t think so.” 

“This was dumb anyway,” she says more to herself, then speaks at a normal level. “C’mon, let’s get you home, okay?” 

“Home?” he asks.

Chloe nods. “I can take you back to the place you live, a building you’ve named Lux. Someone should really keep an eye on you right now, so I’d like to invite you to come stay with me and Maze.”

“You would take me in?” He seems surprised by her offer.

She softens. “Of course I would take you in. You are welcome in my home anytime, Lucifer.” She has to remember that he has none of the history between them, none of the confidence they built together.

He looks touched. “I thank you, Chloe.”

“He’ll be coming back with me.” Amenadiel cuts in suddenly and Lucifer’s expression shutters before wiping itself clear.

Chloe isn’t sure she likes Amenadiel’s unilateral decision. “Lucifer will go where he feels most comfortable,” she corrects sharply. Lucifer stares at her in astonishment. “Whether that is Lux or someplace else.”

“I know what’s best for him right now,” Amenadiel says as calmly as he can.

Maze slinks in, takes up a position near Lucifer and radiates barely restrained violence toward Amenadiel.

Lucifer grows distressed.

“Come now, brother. You know the best place for you is with me,” Amenadiel tells him, voice honeyed with persuasion. “At my side.” He smiles, slow and sweet.

Lucifer goes abruptly silent and stares at Chloe for a long moment. His eyes briefly flick over to Maze. “The two of you live together?” he asks suddenly. 

“We do,” Maze answers, hands drifting towards the small of her back where she has no doubt stashed a blade or three. 

Lucifer turns to his brother, face pale, but spine straight. “I think I would prefer to stay with Chloe and Maze.” 

“Sam - ” Amenadiel starts. 

“ _Don’t_ call him that.” Maze snarls.

Amenadiel clenches his jaw and falls a step back. “Very well. You’ve made your choice. I can’t force you to come with me.” He looks at them all, lip starting to curl. “I’ll make my own way from here.” He strides away from them, soon swallowed up by the clusters of people.

Once he’s gone Lucifer starts to shake, sweat breaking out against his skin. “I-” and his legs weaken.

“Woah!” Chloe says, moving to catch him, but Maze is quicker, somehow supporting Lucifer’s weight like it is nothing.

“Let’s find you a seat,” Maze says and maneuvers him to a nearby curb and he nearly collapses down. Chloe crouches in front of him.

“I chose,” Lucifer says, terror and awe all wrapped up in one. “I _chose_.”

“Yes, you did,” Chloe tells him, pressing a hand to his cheek. “I’m so proud of you,” she says, the words feeling right as she says them. His eyes close and he leans into her touch. 

Chloe’s a cop, she knows what shock looks like and this is close enough. “I’m going to get you something to drink, okay?” Chloe tells him. “Stay right here with Maze.”

“I’ve got him, Decker,” Maze reassures gruffly.

Chloe stands up and goes to the nearest booth that has pop bottles set up on the edge. She pays for a Coke. She brings it back and hands it to him only for him to stare at it in befuddlement. Right. Chloe reaches out and cracks the lid, making sure it doesn’t fizz over. He sips at it cautiously before pulling back sharply.

“It tingles,” he says.

“It’s carbonated,” Chloe replies.

He swallows two more gulps and then presses the cool outside to his forehead without conscious thought. 

“You gonna be okay to walk back?” Maze asks him.

He nods, eyes still closed. “I think so. I just need a moment, please.”

Maze seems disturbed by the please, but settles, stalwart and loyal at his side. Once he’s gathered his composure he gets to his feet. Maze takes the Coke from his hands and takes a swig of it herself before handing it to Chloe, and - at this point she might as well - drinks the last of it.

“Come on, the sooner we get out of here the better,” Maze replies, gazing at the masses of humanity around them with disdain.

*

Lucifer steps into their home slowly, eyes on a swivel as he attempts to take it all in. Chloe doesn’t think her apartment deserves such awe, but it’s nice to see him appreciate it. He’s in his socks, following their example when they toes off their shoes at the door. There’s something oddly endearing about it. They’re red.

Chloe is getting dinner ready, laying out vegetables in front of Maze who is leaning lazily on the counter. 

“Quarter inch slices,” Chloe instructs and turns back to her boiling noodles. 

Maze reaches for her demon blades. 

“With a kitchen knife, not a crazy person knife, thank you.” Chloe corrects without turning around. Maze huffs despondently and selects the largest kitchen knife that Chloe owns. 

Lucifer watches the proceedings with curiosity. 

“Here,” Chloe beckons him over. “You can help.” He steps forward warily. She hands him a fork. “Stir it gently so they don’t get stuck together.” 

He nods, looking like she’s asked him to face down an army if the grave look he gets is anything to go by. She leaves him to it, bustling around to set the table while the meat for the sauce cooks. 

Lucifer and Maze are both intensely absorbed in their tasks, almost meticulous. Still, it keeps them busy and before she knows it, the spaghetti and salad are done and the cheesy breadsticks are just being popped out of the oven. 

Lucifer groans obscenely at the first bite, enough to make her cheeks warm. 

“Good?” Maze asks, leaning forward. 

Lucifer nods, eyes still closed as he chews. He swallows, eyelashes fluttering open and he looks over at Chloe. “You have single handedly redeemed the whole of your race in my eyes.”

She grins, cheeks pink, but doesn’t refute his compliment. 

Lucifer slowly decimated his plate, carefully spinning the noodles around his fork before eating, while Maze seems to have some sort of vendetta against the pasta and she’s getting revenge with her silverware. 

Maze mysteriously disappears when it’s time to clean up and do the dishes, but Lucifer is amiable enough.

She washes while he dries, something he has helped her with before when they’ve shared a meal at her place, not that he knows that. It’s not quite the same, there’s no flirty banter, no teasing touches of hands, but it’s companionable. He seems to relax with the repetition of the task, lost in his own thoughts. She can’t help but examine his profile, the steady lines of his face, the curve of his nose, the edge of his jaw.

Lucifer reaches out and puts her clean dishware in the right places without having to ask. 

Chloe pulls herself from her gazing and catches sight of the time. Dan should be here with Trixie any moment. Sure enough, just as she’s thinking she ought to check her phone in case he called or texted, the doorbell rings. 

Lucifer jumps at the noise and Chloe places a reassuring hand on his arm. He follows her out of the kitchen, but stands awkwardly in the living room as she gets the door. 

Dan is there, Trixie in front of him. 

“Hey,” Dan says. Trixie catches sight of who is standing just inside the apartment. She darts past her mom before Chloe can stop her. 

“Lucifer!” Trixie cries out, running and launching herself against his legs. “You’re okay!” she says and then promptly bursts into tears. 

Lucifer has that same look of bewilderment and terror that he did the first time Trixie wrapped herself around him. He looks up at Chloe in alarm.

“What is it? What’s happening to it?” he asks.

Chloe comes in to rescue Lucifer and scoops her kid up into her arms. “This is my daughter Trixie, she’s just feeling a little overwhelmed right now,” Chloe says, as Trixie sniffles into her neck. “She was really worried about you.”

His face fades into an expression of fascination and concern. “This is a human child?” he asks, puzzled. “It’s so small.”

“ _She_ ,” Chloe corrects gently, but firmly. “She’ll grow as she gets older.”

“I see,” he says, even though he clearly doesn’t.

“I’m going to have her lay down,” Chloe says and carries Trixie to her room.

*

Dan watches Lucifer watch Chloe as she vanishes into Trixie’s bedroom. He wasn’t quite sure he believed it when Chloe texted him about the amnesia, but looking at Lucifer now - yeah. He can see it. Lucifer is wearing his customary suit like it’s a costume, none of the lazy comfort he usually possesses. Even the body language is different, the spine is tighter, the shoulders less curled.

Lucifer looks hopelessly lost the moment Chloe is out of sight. 

“Wow, you _really_ don’t remember,” Dan says, before he can stop the words spilling from his mouth. Lucifer casts him a sharp, irritated look. Well, at least that is familiar.

“And who are you?” Lucifer asks.

“Oh, right, sorry. I’m Dan.” He introduces himself, stepping forward to hold his hand out to shake. Lucifer stares at him a moment before muscle memory takes over and he shakes the offered hand looking baffled the entire time. “I’m Trixie’s father.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows raise in surprise before lowering in confusion. “...But you don’t live here.”

“No. Chloe and I are divorced,” Dan says and he doesn’t even wince, finally at some sort of peace with it. Lucifer stares at him like he understood the words Dan said, but not the concept behind them. “But I’m really glad you are okay, man,” he tells Lucifer earnestly. “Even if you’re not all...” he gestures to his own head. “There.”

“I thank you, Dan,” Lucifer replies slowly and that might be the first time he’s ever called Dan by his shortened name. For some reason it bothers him. 

“God, no. Don’t thank me. I should be thanking _you_ ,” he replies. “You saved their lives, my daughter’s life.” Dan voice goes abruptly hoarse from emotion.

“I came to harm...in an effort to protect them?” Lucifer asks, sounding thoughtful. 

“Yeah,” Dan says. “Seems you’re always there to save them. It’s getting to be a habit,” he half jokes.

“I see,” Lucifer says. “Than if it was in order to save another, I cannot regret it.”

“Have you been settling in okay?” Dan asks in order to shift them away from the subject. 

“Yes. Chloe and Mazikeen have been most accommodating.”

“Good! That’s real good.” Dan bounces on his toes a bit. He sighs in relief when Chloe reappears.

“Hey,” she says to him, voice quiet. “Did she do okay for you?”

“Yeah, Trixie was fine. Worried for Lucifer, of course.”

Chloe nods. “Thanks for watching her.”

“Oh, sure. If you need me to take her an extra day or two while you’re dealing with,” he glances at Lucifer, “ _things_ , I don’t mind.”

Chloe smiles tiredly. “I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s totally fine,” he replies, nodding. “Just give me a call. If you need anything.”

“I will.” Chloe promises.

Dan hesitates. He’s not going to keep information from her, not ever again, but he isn’t sure if he should have more discretion with the timing. 

“What is it?” Chloe asks. 

“I made a few calls and I, uh, I looked into Lucifer’s case.” 

Chloe’s gaze sharpens and she takes a step closer. “And?”

“And it wasn’t just a hit and run. Cameras show it was the getaway vehicle fleeing the scene of a bank holdup.”

Chloe barks a harsh laugh. “No wonder they didn’t stop,” she says, curving her arms around herself. 

“I’m going to try and get in with the guys down in Robbery when I head into work tomorrow, see if they’ll let me take a look at things or at least keep me in the loop.” 

Chloe’s shoulders sag in relief. “God, that would be great, Dan.” 

“Yeah, well. No promises, but I think I can pull a few strings.” He stands there awkwardly for a moment. “Right. Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” he says, and backs up to the door, reaching for the knob. Chloe follows him over.

She leans forward to squeeze his elbow and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you again, Dan,” she whispers. She steps back before he can return any sort of affection, but he’s learned to read her well enough by now to know that she’s too emotionally fragile to handle it right now, so he simply smiles and ducks his head.

“See you later,” he says and makes his exit.

“Night,” Chloe calls as she shuts the door behind him. 

*

“I’m sorry about all of that,” Chloe says to him, “I should have warned you that Trixie can be very boisterous in her affection. I told her what happened, that you don’t remember things, that you might not be comfortable with all of...that.” She trails off.

“It’s alright,” he says quietly. “It caught me off guard, but it wasn’t unpleasant.”

“I’m glad,” she says, encouragingly.

He hesitates and she notices. 

“What is it?” Chloe asks.

“Your child...might I speak with her?” he asks.

Chloe blinks. “I- Yeah. I mean, if you want to, of course you can.”

He shifts his weight. “It just seemed that she was very distressed over me.”

“She cares about you very much,” Chloe tells him.

He says nothing to that, going over the idea in his head. Chloe has been so kind to him and he can tell she is fond of him, of whoever he is with her, but the child... The upheaval of emotion has surprised him, especially that he was the cause. Not even Azrael, the closest of his siblings, ever manifested such outpouring of feeling.

“Did you want to see her now? Or -”

“Now would be preferable,” he answers before she can finish and before cowardice can grip him.

“Okay,” Chloe says and leads him to her daughter’s bedroom. She knocks and opens the door to stick her head in. Trixie looks back at them, the side lamp on. “Hey, Monkey. Is it alright if Lucifer comes in and talks with you for a minute?”

Trixie sits up and nods. Chloe opens the door wide and steps back, allowing him to brush past her. He stands there for a moment, unsure, before Trixie pats the end of her bed. He carefully takes a seat.

“You can go now, Mom. We’ll be fine,” Trixie says with far too much maturity for an eight year old.

“Alright,” Chloe says, humoring her, amusement curling at her mouth. “Call if you need me, okay?” and she leaves the door cracked. 

He sits, legs bent oddly, hands folded in his lap. He doesn't know how to start this conversation, not quite sure what he's even doing. His brothers and sisters rarely required anything of him and his mother, while warm and gentle, could also be cold and unwittingly cruel. He does not know how to aid the human offspring, but he wants to try. 

He starts simple. “Your mother tells me that you were very worried after I got hurt.”

Trixie nods. “Mom said you got hit on the head really bad and you don’t remember any of us.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” he confirms. 

She looks troubled, her big, brown eyes dark with concern. Much like her mother, in that regard. “I’m sorry you forgot about us, Lucifer.”

He contemplates her. “Yes. I am too.”

Trixie reaches out for his hand, wrapping her small fingers around his larger ones. 

“What?” she asks, as he continues to stare at their hands.

“Pardon me, it’s just. You’re so very small.” He hadn’t known children were small. The proportions are all correct, he thinks, or are gangly with the promise of growth. Just...small.

“I’m almost nine!” she protests.

“Is this a normal size for a nine year old?”

She nods. “I might even be tall because Mom and Dad are tall.”

“Not as tall as me,” he replies.

“No one is as tall as you.” Trixie grins. “Except your brother.” Then she frowns thoughtfully. “You have brothers and sisters, don’t you?”

“I have many,” he says.

“And they were never small? What about when they were born?”

“Angels are born fully formed,” comes the answer. “We do not grow at all.” 

“So you never got to be small and go and play and stuff?” Trixie looks troubled at the idea.

“We...play occasionally,” he tells her, though the kind of recreation angels enjoyed differed greatly from human entertainments. “And we sing.” 

He does not say that he can hardly remember the last time his siblings gathered to sing together, that things are tense in the Silver City recently.

“You sing?” Trixie gasps, delighted.

“Yes.” He pushes his troubling thoughts away and smiles down at the girl. “Perhaps,” he says. “If you close your eyes, I shall sing you to sleep.”

Trixie grins widely and promptly shuts her eyes tight, snuggling down into her blankets. He mentally shifts through the various melodies of the Silver City, discarding war dirges or high praises. He settles on a song of peace, one his mother used to hum to him when he was very young.

He clears his throat and looks away from Trixie’s eager face, suddenly self-conscious despite the audience of one. Then he lifts his voice in song.

*

Maze comes through the apartment door carrying three garment bags and a duffle over her shoulder.

“Where have you been?” Chloe asks, raising a brow.

“Ran by Lux to grab some clothes for Lucifer.”

Chloe blinks at the show of thoughtfulness. “And here I thought you just wanted to get out of doing the dishes.”

Maze smirks. “That too.”

Chloe rolls her eyes but then softens. “It was really nice of you to go out and grab his things, it totally slipped my mind.”

Maze shrugs, but Chloe can see that she’s pleased. “Where is he?”

“He wanted to talk to Trixie,” Chloe answers and Maze’s eyebrows skyrocket.

That’s when they hear him start to sing. 

Chloe has heard Lucifer sing, many times, in fact - but it was nothing like this. This is ethereal, haunting. Maze’s face goes unexpectedly blank and slides the duffle bag from her shoulder to the ground with a thump.

“What is that?” Chloe asks, a strange sensation in her chest, a stinging behind her eyes.

“A song of the Silver City, of Heaven,” Maze breathes. 

Chloe believes it, foreign words spilling into the air. It sounds like something that should be sung in a cathedral, sound carried up into high vaulted ceilings. Something holy. 

“It’s been millennia since I’ve heard him sing this and, even then, it was only the once,” she remarks.

Chloe gives her a prompting look.

“I had been wounded,” Maze starts, storytelling isn’t something that comes naturally to her. “Badly.” She takes a breath. “It was early in his reign, back when it was a constant fight to hold the throne, endless usurpations and assassination attempts. No one wanted an angel ruling over them and there was no one by his side, except for me. They hadn’t yet learned his wrath.”

Maze looks away for a moment and they both stop to listen to the rise and fall of Lucifer’s voice, elegant and empyreal. “I don’t think he believed I would survive,” Maze says quietly, reaching up to touch lightly at her cheek before her hand falls away. “And he sang that to me.”

They listen to him in bittersweet silence.

It's only after he has fallen silent that they drift away. Chloe goes to shower and change into her sleep clothes. When she returns, Lucifer is in a set of fancy pajamas and a robe. She wonders if Maze helped him or if he managed it himself. He’s sitting on the couch looking reflective.

“Everything okay?” she asks, which is a dumb question. “You’re not usually so quiet,” she explains herself.

“I’m not?” he asks, curious.

“No,” Chloe smiles. “You’re pretty loquacious.”

He makes a little amused huffing noise and gets to his feet. “I’m not surprised. My siblings have oft remarked upon my ability to speak endlessly without actually saying anything.” He sobers. “But I have had much to think on, as of late.”

He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes like bruises.

“Right, yeah. You should get some sleep. I can put fresh sheets on the bed for you -” she starts.

“I couldn’t possibly -” he attempts to say.

“No, no, it’s fine. I don’t mind taking the couch,” she reassures.

“I am a guest imposing upon your hospitality, I refuse to supplant you from your bedroom.” He tilts his head down and holds her stare, adamant.

“Really, Lucifer, the couch is very comfortable,” she tells him honestly.

“Then I shall not find it disagreeable when I sleep on it,” he replies tartly.

Chloe lets her head fall into her hand. “Lucifer,” she says, voice plaintive.

“Chloe,” he returns, waiting till she looks back up at him. “Please allow me this.” His eyes are warm.

“Alright,” she sighs, relenting. “Let me get you some blankets.” She goes to the linen closet and gets a stack of blankets and some sheets to make up the couch. Lucifer moseys around the living room while she works. She tucks the material in the sides of the cushions, lays out his blankets. He doesn’t seem to find the heat intolerable, so she puts an extra one nearby, just in case.

She straightens and looks around for him. He’s standing next to a shelf lined with framed photographs. There’s a few shots of her mother, at least four of Trixie, a picture of her and Dan and Trixie at Disneyland. Lucifer stares at the newest addition. It’s of the two of them.

Ella had taken the picture. They’d been at Lux, having a drink, purple lights flashing over them. She’d had a drink or two, was sitting far too close to him, drawn in by the warmth he always emanated. He’d said something and she replied with a clever remark and they’d just...stared at each other, smiling. 

Ella had it printed and framed, gave it to her at the precinct with a wink and some sort of oddball encouragement. Chloe had rolled her eyes and laughed, intending to toss it later. Yet, it had somehow made it’s way to her apartment mantle.

“I - ” he touches the picture with hesitant fingers. “We are friends?” he asks. 

Heat prickles behind her eyes and Chloe nods. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re friends.” 

He looks so uncertain, everything about him stripped bare. She’s so used to his many layers, his armor, that it’s almost wrong to see him so vulnerable. He seems confused at the idea someone would be friends with him and she refuses to blink even when her vision blurs over. 

Gravity takes the decision out of her hands, tears spilling over and down her cheeks. He notices, because of course he does. 

“I’ve upset you,” he says, brow furrowed in distress. 

“No.” She’s quick to reassure him, reaching out to grip his arm with one hand while the other dashes quickly at her eyes. “No, you haven’t upset me.”

“But you’re leaking.” 

Chloe laughs at his wording and tries to pull herself together. She thought she had been handling things okay, small breakdown at the hospital notwithstanding. “It’s just this whole situation,” she tells him, making a vague, expansive gesture. “Which is no one’s fault.”

“It must be distressing from your perspective,” he says, eyes dark with empathy.

“I can’t imagine it’s a bed of roses for you either,” Chloe replies with a half laugh. 

“No,” he says, a small, sad smile on his mouth. “No, I think not.”

Chloe shakes her head.

“What is it?” he asks, angling towards her.

“It’s stupid,” she says, glancing away to study the photographs. 

He simply waits for her to continue. She sighs and looks back at his imploring face.

“It’s _stupid_ , because you’re right here in front of me, alive, and I’m so, _so_ , grateful for that... but I _miss_ you,” she says, with exquisite anguish, emotion catching in her throat. “I’m sad for you. I’m sad for me,” she explains.

He looks baffled, but then squares his jaw and steps in close, brings his arms around her like he’s heard what a hug is, but has never given one before. Who knows, maybe he hasn’t. He was skittish enough the first time she hugged him, after all. 

She laughs messily through her tears and grips him with white-knuckled desperation. He doesn’t let go for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the song Lucifer is singing (in my mind, at least) is Lux Aeterna (ha!) by Edward Elgar or something along those lines. Just whatever you do, [don't imagine him singing it with his siblings](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IwdeqVmXlHk) and then if you do that, don't make the mistake of picturing [Lucifer playing it on the piano at Lux all alone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nz8DVpcyLZM)
> 
> you can see the picture Lucifer looks at in Chloe's apartment [HERE](https://wollfgangsblog.tumblr.com/post/166496205180/maryjocs-im-rewatching-this-because-honestly-i)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Lucifer go into work while Dan gets himself into some trouble at the precinct. Chloe learns more about Lucifer's past while a few of his memories start to trickle through. However, not all memories are good memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay everybody, thank you so much for being patient! As a reward here's a ten thousand word chapter! Huzzah!
> 
> big shout out to [Aiobhlin ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiobhlin/pseuds/Aiobhlin) for beta-ing this mess and getting my damn commas in the right spots

Lucifer is already awake, his dark eyes stare blankly at the ceiling, when Chloe comes into the living room. Concern bubbles up through her. 

“Did you sleep okay?” she asks as she walks by. 

Sitting up from the couch, he turns his head to keep her in his sights. “I rested adequately.” 

_Good enough_ , she supposes. “Well, I'm going to get started on breakfast, if you want to take a seat.”

He gets to his feet, still impossibly graceful, and joins her in the kitchen. Chloe gestures to a chair at the table and he takes a seat. 

She starts on some pancakes, considers whether to make some eggs and bacon, too. On a normal morning, Lucifer would make himself useful, being quite the cook himself, but without his memories he remains seated and watchful. The bacon is wedged under a package of cheese sticks and some vegetables, but Chloe manages to dig it free.

Chloe glances over at Lucifer as she carefully lays out bacon strips to see him studying the stick of butter in the middle of the table. He reaches out slowly, like he’s trying to be subtle, and sticks his finger tip in it. He blinks at the texture and pulls his hand back to look at it. Lucifer checks to see if anyone is watching him - Chloe pretends to be focused on her frying pan - and then he darts forward to lick at it. He pulls a face. 

“It tastes better when it’s with something,” Chloe explains aloud, making him startle hard enough to bang his knee on the bottom of the table. She struggles not to laugh. 

“Right,” he says sheepishly. He looks down at his fingers and surreptitiously wipes them off on the tablecloth. “It is a flavor enhancer, then?” he asks. 

“Usually,” Chloe replies, “Here, try it on some toast.” She puts two slices of bread in the toaster. “Give it a minute.”

The bacon finishes up while they wait; Chloe checks the pancakes and flips them. 

Lucifer watches the process quizzically, jumping again when the toast pops out. She chuckles at him, then goes to retrieve them from the toaster, buttering them generously before putting them on a plate and placing it in front of Lucifer. As she returns to her pancakes, she sees him cautiously take a bite out of the corner of a piece of toast. While she pretends to be focused on her cooking, she surreptitiously watches as he takes another bite, then another. Soon the toast is gone except for the crumbs at the corners of his mouth. 

She sets out the rest of breakfast and shouts for Maze and Trixie. If that doesn't get them out of bed, the smell of food eventually will. There was nothing as effective as the scent of bacon when it came to getting those two sleepy heads from their beds to the kitchen. Chloe sits and busies herself with putting things on her plate while Lucifer studies her. “Here, have a pancake,” she says, placing one on his plate. 

He obediently does so, copying how she pours syrup on it. He seems to savor his first bite, chewing slowly, eyes closed. She watches his throat as he swallows. Then he reaches for the syrup bottle and adds more to almost Trixie levels of syrup. 

It seems he still has a sweet tooth, nothing has changed there. How much of him is still there? What pieces of Lucifer are ingrained and what are learned? He’s almost childlike, the way everything seems new and unusual to him. There is still the quick mind she knows behind it all, understanding and adapting, putting things together at astonishing speeds. 

“You have questions,” Lucifer says as he wipes at his mouth. Chloe eyes dart up to meet his, surprised. “I can tell.” 

Case in point. He’s better at reading her than she had thought he would be. Is that something he’s always processed or are Lucifer’s experiences with her bleeding through somehow?

She answers him carefully, treading a fine line of informed consent. “I do,” she admits. “But I don't want to take advantage. Right now, you don't remember why you might prefer to keep things to yourself.” 

“This is true,” he says, carefully setting aside his silverware and focusing on her. “And your restraint only speaks well of you. Nevertheless, I insist. This way I will only be angry with myself.” 

She hesitates. “Your name,” she says, the half uttered syllable she had heard before Maze had snarled it silent. “The one Amenadiel started to call you.”

His spine tenses. Damn it, she knew this was a bad idea. She should have just kept her mouth shut. 

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to say, I shouldn’t have asked - ” she begins.

“The name...does not offend you?” he cuts in quietly, his dark eyes suddenly unreadable. 

She stares at him, brow crinkled. “How can it offend me if I don't even know what it is?” she says.

Realization breaks out on his face. “Ah,” he says, his mouth goes abruptly flat, displeased. “Amenadiel had suggested...” he trails off. Then he shakes his head and clearly pushes away whatever he was going to say. 

Chloe can put it together. She’s just starting to work herself into a proper indignation when Lucifer’s next words defuse her anger. 

“My name,” he licks his lips nervously. “Is Samael.”

“Samael,” Chloe repeats softly. It feels heavy on her tongue, a secret Lucifer has never shared. “Would you...would you prefer to be called that?” she asks him.

“No,” Lucifer says, sudden, sharp. His vehemence seems to surprise both of them. “No,” he says again, calmer. “I ... I quite like Lucifer. It’s a much better description than Samael.” 

“What do you mean?”

“An angel’s name tells you all that they are, their function, their role in Father’s design,” he explains, “Samael... It means God’s Venom, though that's a more literal translation. I would say it means Punishment.”

Somehow, that's almost worse than being called Lucifer. “Punishment...?”

“Yes. When my father finishes his work with Humanity, I am to serve over them, to guide them and punish wrongdoing,” he says. 

She tries not to let her dismay show on her face. What kind of father does that? Brands their child with their purpose, and such a terrible one at that? 

“And you're okay with that?” she asks without thinking. 

His whole body seems to pause. “My feelings on it are inconsequential. It is what I was made for,” he says very carefully. 

“And that doesn't bother you?” Chloe asks, doing her best to understand. It’s such a foreign idea, that Lucifer would ever allow another to dictate his life to him, down to such detail. Now she’s realizing... Maybe this is why. 

He opens his mouth and halts. A look of uncertainty flickers across his face before it's tucked behind a blank face. “And if I said it did?” 

“I would be _relieved_ ,” Chloe says with concern, reaching out to place her hand over his. He would sound like his old self for a moment. 

He seems puzzled by her response. He looks at where she’s placed her touch and then flick up to hers. She holds his gaze steadily, not shying away when his expression changes to tentative amazement. He slowly turns his palm upwards, increasing the contact between them. 

Unfortunately, the moment is broken by her daughter’s exultant cry of “Pancakes!”

Maze comes shuffling out behind her, hair messy from bed. “Not so loud, little imp,” she chides lightly at Trixie. They join them at the table, Maze zeroing in on the bacon. 

Once Trixie has sufficiently slathered her pancakes in syrup, the girl turns to Lucifer. “I really liked that song you sang to me, Lucifer. It was really pretty.”

“Thank you,” he tells her. “Though, I must admit, it sounds more pleasing when accompanied by a few of my brothers or sisters.”

Trixie frowns. “Well, I think you sing it the best,” she says with the certainty of the young. “Would you sing it to me again?” 

Chloe is about to cut in and tell Lucifer that he is not obligated to sing to Trixie if he doesn’t want to. She knows her daughter will try and rope him into making that promise. Lucifer speaks before she can. 

“Perhaps,” he replies, but his voice is kind. “But I know many songs. You might find a new one more preferable.” 

Trixie’s eyes widen in delight. Well, that’s it, then. It’s too late now. He's doomed himself. 

“You don’t know it, but you’ve just committed to singing every night,” Chloe says with a laugh. 

“There are worse things,” Lucifer replies, eyes sparkling. “We often sang to the fledglings when our numbers were few.”

Chloe wonders how he’s managed to be so taken with Trixie when originally he’d been so standoffish with her before. Then she wonders if he is actually naturally child friendly and something happened to make him so reticent. 

“So what's it like? Your home,” Trixie asks. “Is it full of clouds?”

“No,” he indulges her. “No clouds. The Silver City is beautiful,” he says with just a touch of wistfulness. It fades and his face goes hard. “And it is cold.” 

Chloe knows he doesn't mean the temperature. 

“When I was very young, it was different. Everything was bright and wonderful. Perfect.” He gives an awkward shrug. “Now, Mother and Father are away much of the time, or they're fighting. I spend most of my time on my own, in the older sections of the City.” 

“Doing what?” Trixie wonders, cheek distended with pancake. 

“Exploring mostly. Reading, thinking. As we have grown older, my brothers and sisters have come to care little for me. They think I should remain content and quiet, so I spend most of my time alone,” he says, like it’s inconsequential. 

“Feathered pricks,” Maze growls. 

Lucifer looks over at her in surprise and then smiles slowly, pleased. “Yes, they can be, can't they?” 

Trixie grins conspiratorially. “Maze said a bad word, Mom.” 

Chloe hums and Maze looks the opposite of contrite. “Yes, but I’m going to let it slide this once since I agree with her.” She gets up to put her dishes to soak in the sink. 

Lucifer looks a little overwhelmed by the show of support. Chloe leaves him be while she cleans breakfast up, and after enough pointed looks and throat clearing, Maze reluctantly joins her to help. 

“So, where are you taking him today?” Maze asks. “Are you going to go back to the scene of the accident? I bet that would jog something loose.” 

“No,” Chloe says just a touch too forcefully, fear suddenly rattling in her bones. She can still hear the crunch of bone and metal, smell the burnt rubber. She closes her eyes against it. “No, we aren't going back there,” she says intensely, forcing her voice not to shake. 

Lucifer watches from the table and doesn't speak. 

Maze’s attempts at an apology are cut off by Chloe's phone ringing. It’s the station. She hasn’t caught a new case, thankfully, but they have some questions about a recently closed one that she can’t put off until later. She hangs up and sighs.

“I gotta go into work,” she tells them. “Go get dressed for school, monkey,” she directs at Trixie.

“I suppose I should get dressed as well,” Lucifer says, looking uncertain.

“You are always welcome to go with me, Lucifer. Or you can stay here if you don’t feel up to it,” Chloe says. “It’s your choice.”

His face does a funny little spasm, but then his expression goes clear. “I will accompany you,” he says, the wording somehow more formal sounding than normal.

“Alright,” she accepts. She leaves to change her clothes, contemplates a quick shower, but decides she won’t have enough time if she wants to drop Trixie off at school first.

By the time she makes it back to the living area both Lucifer and Trixie are dressed and waiting for her. She smiles at them and grabs her keys. 

“Let’s get going.” 

Lucifer stops at the door abruptly. He's got a hand braced against the door frame, eyes blank. 

“Lucifer?” she asks carefully. 

“Is he okay?” Trixie looks up at her mom, eyes wide and worried. 

Lucifer does a full body shudder and straightens. 

“You lived in a beach house before this,” he says suddenly. “Didn't you?” 

“What did you say?” Her words are a bit sharper than she had intended. 

“It was a beach house,” he repeats. “Right?” 

“You remember it?” she breathes. 

He looks uncertain. “It was blue.” 

He makes a little wheezing noise when Chloe wraps her arms around his middle and squeezes for all that she’s worth, thrilled beyond words. She pulls away just far enough to look him in the eyes, hands still gripping his arms. “They're coming back? Your memories?” she asks, breathless.

“I - I think so,” he says tentatively. “Small things. Only little flashes.” 

The urge to pull his face down to hers and press against his mouth is almost irresistible, so she subsumes the desire into another embrace, closing herself around him. His heart beats loud under her ear. She feels Trixie join the hug, pressing tightly against their legs. 

*

Trixie bombards Lucifer with questions as they drive her over to her school. 

“Do you remember meeting me?” she asks. 

“Not yet,” he replies. 

“What about Mommy?” 

He glances over at her and Chloe smirks back. “Sadly, no.”

“Well,” Trixie huffs with disappointment, “What _do_ you remember?” 

“Apparently, not much,” he says with wry humor. “Did you by chance have a particularly heinous looking doll?” 

“Tammy twinkle toes!” Trixie grins. “I popped her eye out.” She darts a quick look at her mother. “On accident.”

“Baby, don't bother Lucifer,” Chloe says as gently as she can. Trixie sits back in her seat. Chloe looks over at Lucifer. “We’re just both really glad some things are coming back.” 

He smiles. “Yes, I am as well.”

They pull up to the school and Trixie grabs her backpack and gets out. 

“Bye, Mommy! Bye, Lucifer! Love you!” she shouts as she leaves. 

“Bye, baby!” Chloe calls back and watches to make sure her daughter gets inside the school before she pulls away from the curb. 

Lucifer watches her go as well, eyes soft. “A sweet child you have, Chloe,” he says quietly. 

Chloe snorts. “Don't let her fool you, she's a little rascal.” 

“Even better.” He grins wickedly. 

*

They arrive at the station without incident. Chloe deftly maneuvers them around the hustle and bustle of a busy day. Lucifer easily keeps step with her as they wind their way towards her desk. 

She sees Dan nearby in conversation with another man and something is just off enough about it that it pings her detective senses. She takes a second look. Dan’s backed up near the wall, angled towards the exit while the other man steps forward into his space aggressively. 

“I do believe Dan might be in some sort of confrontation,” Lucifer says mildly. 

Lucifer’s right. Chloe isn't sure if she should interfere. Palmetto taught her that the police force was still very much a Boy's Club. They didn't always care for her to put a stop to the various tiffs and such going on. 

She leads Lucifer over to her desk. He had naturally fallen into the position at her side, measuring out his long strides to match her shorter ones and pauses there. Chloe steps closer to where Dan is standing, careful not to draw attention, but to get within earshot of the conversation. 

“What’s Homicide doing, nosing in on my case?” the man snaps. He’s older than Dan by at least a decade, his hair and mustache grizzled and gray. A badge and gun rest on his belt. Dan puts his hands up in a gesture of peace. 

“Hey, man, I’m not trying to steal credit or cases. I was just trying to lend a helping hand,” he says calmly. 

“Yeah? And why would we need the help of a dirty, low-life like you, Espinoza?” the man sneers. 

And that’s enough for Chloe to get involved, because, yes, Dan made some bad decisions, but it had come from a good place. He was trying to do the right thing and make up for it. She strides over.

“What’s going on here?” she asks in her best no-nonsense voice.

Dan’s jaw tightens even as relief flickers briefly over his face.

The older man glances at her and just as quickly dismisses her, his mustache lifting with disdain. “What’s going on is that we got word of a detective trying to weasel in on my case.” 

She gives him an equally callous once over. “And you are?” 

“Detective McMillan, missy,” he says while folding his arms, staring at her with disapproval.

Chloe’s eyes go cold. “That’s Detective Decker, to you,” she corrects. 

The other detective merely curls his lip. “I don’t know what kind of operation you’re running over here, lady, but we keep our cops in line down at Robbery.” 

“Then I suggest,” Chloe says, stepping close, her disdain clear on her face, “You get out of my bullpen and get back to it.”

McMillan snorts, but Chloe considers this conversation over and turns away. He snatches at her arm, whirling her back. In a blink of an eye, Lucifer is there, his fingers wrapped around the man’s wrist. 

“Unhand her,” he says in a voice that sends chills down her spine. It is calm in the way that foretells sudden brutality and spilt blood.

“The hell?” McMillan yelps when Lucifer tightens his grip.

“Unhand her before I break your arm,” Lucifer clarifies, steely. 

He releases Chloe and Lucifer lets him go as promised. Lucifer stands, tall and imposing, between her and McMillan, every line of him pulled tight with carefully controlled violence. McMillan must recognize it, too, and takes a step back.

“Call off your little attack dog, Decker, or there’ll be hell to pay,” McMillan says, but he’s clearly rattled.

Lucifer growls and McMillan goes sudden and abruptly pale.

“She has dismissed you,” Lucifer says, words tight and clipped. He flicks his gaze back to Chloe. “Shall I escort him out?”

“No.” Chloe’s voice does not waver. “He knows the way.”

Chloe might take a little satisfaction from watching McMillan scurry away, but not nearly enough. Dan is quick to try and mitigate the damage.

“Chloe, I’m really sorry. I was just trying to find out if they’d made any headway on the case,” he starts in.

“I know, Dan. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s not your fault he was an ass.”

“Still,” he says, his eyes imploring. 

She waves his concern away. “Not my first rodeo, Dan. You know that.” 

He huffs a little laugh. “Fair enough. I’ll be more discreet.” 

She nods, effectively releasing him from fault. 

He flashes a grin. “I’m going to go see if Ella has anything for me,” and gracefully makes his exit.

Chloe turns to Lucifer, standing politely and far too innocently at her shoulder. “What was that?” she demands. 

From his mulish expression he knows exactly what she’s talking about, but doesn’t seem the least bit sorry. It’s such a _Lucifer_ reaction that her chest aches. “He took hold of you,” Lucifer says disapprovingly. “Against your permission.” 

“I don't need you to defend me,” she tells him. 

He looks at her like she's something strange and incomprehensible. “Yes, I know,” he replies. “But is my duty and privilege to do so.”

She’s not entirely sure what to say to that. The sentiment is oddly touching, even as it worries her. 

Lieutenant Monroe comes around the corner and spots them. “Decker!” she calls and Chloe instantly swivels towards her boss. 

“Yes?”

“I’d like to see you in my office,” she says. “Now.”

Chloe nods an affirmative. Then she tosses a look at Lucifer, who would no doubt follow her. She doesn’t think that he would help in this case. 

“I need you to stay here and wait for me, okay?” she asks.

He peers down at her, then over to where Monroe already waits inside her office, and frowns. “As you wish,” he replies, clearly displeased, but remarkably obedient. 

It makes her feel like she’s taking advantage for a small moment, but she pushes it away to worry about later. She reminds herself that even Lucifer with all his memories occasionally obeyed her when it suited him. 

“Thank you,” she says, and touches his arm. The same arm that had reached out and snatched at McMillan, ready and willing to commit harm for her. Chloe swallows. She shakes her head, blows out a nervous breath and proceeds to the Lieutenant's office. 

*

“Hey, Ella.” Dan says as he steps into the lab. “What have you got for me?”

“Okay, so, I’m good friends with Jamal who’s working forensics for Lucifer’s case, right?”

“Ella, you’re good friends with everyone,” he replies fondly, a laugh crouched in his words. As if Ella could never _not_ be friends with someone, friendly and upbeat enough to soften even the most bad-tempered of officers. 

“Aw, _thank you,_ ” she says, genuinely touched. “So, anyway, I asked him about what he’s worked out so far, and Jamal is a pretty circumspect guy, you know? But I told him that Lucifer’s our friend and we just want to try and help. So this is what we’ve got.” 

She swings around her monitor so he can see. Dan studies the incomprehensible squiggles and data. “And this is?” he prompts. 

“It’s the description of the vehicle, make and model. Boots on the ground got pictures of the tread. They’re still working on processing things in the lab, the swabs and trace evidence.”

“So. We don’t have much, then,” Dan says, hands on his hips.

“Not yet, but hopefully soon!” Ella says with optimism. “What about you? You find anything out?”

“Just that they have officers out looking for the vehicle and Detective McMillian is _an asshole_ ,” he says with a brief burst of anger.

“Woah, there,” Ella says, eyes wide. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. It’s fine. Chloe stepped in and Lucifer backed her up.” Dan waves it off.

“Lucifer’s here?” Ella asks, suddenly bright eyed and curious. 

“Yeah, but he’s still not...” Dan halts, trying to word it politely. “Himself.”

“Aw, poor guy. That’s got to be rough. You know, I bet he could probably use a hug,” Ella says with sympathy.

She squares her shoulders, apparently headed out to do just that, when one of her many machines starts beeping. She looks at it, clearly debates with herself, and then sags. “The hugging will have to wait,” she laments. “But you’ll tell him that I hope he gets to feeling better, right?” 

“Of course I will,” Dan assures.

Ella beams. “Awesome! Thanks, you’re the man, Dan.” The machine beeps a little more rapidly and Ella goes into Science Mode.

Dan leaves the lab in Ella’s capable hands and returns to his desk. He turns the corner to see Lucifer standing in an easy parade rest, clearly waiting for Chloe patiently. Which begs the question, where is Chloe?

Dan follows Lucifer’s gaze to the Lieutenant’s office, and spots Chloe inside through the window. He can’t tell if the conversation is going well, but from the jut of her jaw he’s going to guess it’s not. Might as well keep Lucifer company, who knows how long she could be in there.

“Hey, man, why don’t you take a seat? It could be while,” Dan advises, approaching him. 

Lucifer turns to him, brows furrowed. “I was told to wait here.” 

“And you actually listened?” Dan replies, eyebrows going up in surprise. 

“Of course. Why would I not? Chloe is the commanding officer and I am currently in her care,” Lucifer replies, like any idea otherwise was a concept entirely foreign to him. 

Dan boggles at that for a moment. “What, did you come from a military family or something?” 

Lucifer blinks. “I suppose one could put it that way. All angels do serve as soldiers. My father is not called the God of Armies for nothing.” 

“You still think you're the devil?” Dan asks, surprised. He didn’t realize Lucifer’s delusions went so far back.

Lucifer looks at him in confusion. “The what?” 

They stare at each other for a moment in total bafflement. 

Dan decides that discretion is the better part of Valor in this situation. “How do you know Chloe is the one in charge anyway?” he asks instead. 

“Because everyone listens to her,” Lucifer replies. And yeah, Dan can't really argue with that. 

Lucifer reorients himself towards Chloe, his gaze wistful. “She is wise and honest and kind. I would serve her,” he says, voice quiet, like it's a secret, like it's shameful. “If my Father would ever allow such a thing.” 

“Why wouldn't he?” Dan can't help but ask, drawn into Lucifer’s weirdness despite himself.

“He made me what I am. I can bind myself to no other,” Lucifer says, sounding bleak. Resigned. “The moment I have learned whatever lessons He wishes to impart from this place, no doubt I will once again be pressed into His service.”

Something like anger wells up in Dan’s chest. “Dude, no offense, but your dad sounds like an ass.”

Lucifer looks at him with incredulity, as if Dan has done something incredibly dangerous and gotten away with it. Then he laughs, loud and sudden, like it was startled from him. Dan stares, surprised. “That’s very kind of you, Dan. Foolhardy, but kind.”

“Yeah, well. Never said I was smart.” Dan shrugs, but the corner of his mouth stays curled, pleased.

“Come now, you must surely have some redeemable qualities if the Detective found you a prospective suitor,” Lucifer says and then his eyelashes flutter. “I call her that, don’t I?” he asks. “Detective.”

“Yeah, you do,” Dan says. “It’s kind of a thing, with you, I think.”

Lucifer stares, uncomprehending. 

“Names,” Dan explains. “You’re really careful with them. Weirdly careful. You hardly even used mine when we first met,” he says with a bit of a laugh. “Always called me ‘Detective Douche.’ We really didn’t get along. You were a smug dick and I was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah,” Dan shrugs. “Of what you and Chloe had. There was this like,” he gestures abstractly, “ _thing_ between you two, this connection. I mean, you don’t even have your memories and it’s still there.”

“But you and I are...friends now?” Lucifer seems puzzled.

“Yeah.” he grins. “Yeah, we are. You toned down your insufferableness and I finally pulled my head out of my ass. You know, underneath it all, you really are a pretty likable guy, Lucifer.” 

Lucifer snorts. “My siblings would disagree.”

“Then they’re just as much of an ass as your dad,” Dan says, his efforts rewarded with another half-astonished bark of laughter from Lucifer.

“I’m sure if I had any recollection of you at all, I would return the sentiment.” Lucifer smirks.

Dan chuckles. “Well, I don’t know about that, but we’re in a good place now, you and I. You don’t call me a douche and I don’t hate the sight of you.”

“So what do I call you, then?” Lucifer asks, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Daniel,” Dan says, “And I think you’re the only person, besides my abuela, who does.”

“And you prefer this address?” Lucifer tilts his head curiously.

Dan thinks about it. “Yeah, I do. You’re more than welcome to call me Dan, though. If you want. But I like Daniel, too. It's like our thing.” 

“I see,” he says. Then adds, “ _Daniel_.” as if he’s trying it out. 

“There ya go!” Dan gives him a friendly jostle and Lucifer smiles at him. There’s the sound of a door opening and closing and they both look over to see Chloe exit the office, a dazed expression on her face. She comes over to them.

“Everything alright?” Dan asks.

“Yeah.” Chloe nods. “She gave me the next few days off,” she says, still dazed. 

“That’s probably for the best, Chloe,” Dan says gently.

“No, yeah, I know. It was just surprising that’s all.” She turns to him. “You’ll try and keep up to date on Lucifer’s case, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Dan replies. 

“Thanks. I’ve got to finish some paperwork and then I’ll be out of here.”

“Did you want me to take Trixie tonight?” Dan offers.

Chloe shakes her head. “No, I’ve got it. I’ll let you know if that changes, though. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” His phone beeps. “I gotta take this, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah,” Chloe replies and he takes the call, walking back to his own desk.

*

She takes a seat at her desk, pulls her stack of files closer to her, and nods at the chair placed nearby for him.

“I've sat here before,” he says, once he's settled in the chair, his brow knitted in concentration. He looks over at her. “And you were sitting there,” he says slowly, eyes distant. “...You asked me to do paperwork, but I didn't.” He comes back to himself and seems a bit disgruntled at his old behavior. “Why would I not do anything you asked of me?”

As happy as she is that things are coming back to him, it's revealing a disturbing mindset he seems to have about their relationship. “Lucifer, I don't _own_ you. You don't have to do something just because I tell you to.” 

He looks flummoxed, but he's still listening. 

“Besides, with the big things, when it really counts, you are always there for me and you listen to me.” She smiles at him. “And that's what is really important.”

“I see,” he says, though she's not sure that he does. “Then, you and I, are of ...equal status?”

“Yes,” she nods, smiling at him encouragingly. 

“And we do things for each other, not out of requirement, but... because we hold each other in esteem,” he says, sounding more firm about it now.

“Yes,” she confirms. “Though, when it comes to police matters,” she starts to amend. 

“I would naturally defer to your expertise,” he finishes. 

“And when it comes to esoteric information, or the ability to find out someone's desires, I would defer to you.” 

He looks at her like the idea is incomprehensible. “How strange. And all humans function under the same parameters?” 

“More or less,” Chloe says. 

“How does this not lead to conflict?” 

“Oh, it does.” 

He looks troubled by her statement. 

“And _when_ that happens, we sit down and try and talk about it, or you might work it out with Linda,” Chloe adds.

“Linda?”

“She’s your therapist.” 

He just continues to stare at her, the word clearly holding no meaning for him. 

“She talks with you about how you feel about things. She tries to offer solutions to problems and helps you cope with your...issues,” Chloe attempts to explain. 

“Ah,” Lucifer says with a decisive nod of his head. “She is an adviser.” 

“Yeah.” Really, that’s close enough. 

“And, because we are of equal status, I could ask things of you?” He nonetheless appears uncertain.

“Of course you can,” she reassures instantly. “And I would do my best to accommodate you, if I am able.”

He looks unsettled. “Even if they are things you may not like?”

“Yes,” she confirms. Still, he hesitates. She reaches out to touch him, presses her fingertips to his arm, glad that he no longer shies away from her. “What is it?”

“I’d like to visit the scene of the accident,” he says and then lifts his chin, like he’s expecting to be vilified for it.

Chloe blinks, fear washing over her like ice water. “Are you sure?” she asks, voice cracking.

“I am.” His words are quiet but firm.

“Okay,” she says and squeezes at him before sliding back. “Then we will.”

He looks stunned. “But you did not wish me to go.” 

She looks at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he’s getting at. It clicks. With so many different versions of the truth being fed to him, it’s made him distrustful. Or perhaps suspicion is just in his nature. She’s a bit sad that she’s not as credible as before, but happy to clear up the misunderstanding. 

“Oh, Lucifer. It’s not that I didn’t want _you_ to go, or that I was trying to hide something from you,” she explains. “ _I_ was the reason I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to go back to that place and remember what happened, relive how awful it was. It was an emotional reaction on my part and I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how you felt or whether you would want to go there.”

“You have no need to apologize,” he says, voice surprisingly tender. “And we do not have to go if it is distressing to you.” 

She takes a careful breath. “Do you want to go?” 

“I do,” he says, sounding apologetic. “I’m hoping that seeing the source of my memory issues might prompt them to return.”

“Then I’ll drive you over there after we leave,” she promises him. 

With that matter settled, she starts tackling the busywork left over from the last few days, takes a call and speaks with a newer DA about a closed case for almost an hour, her patience slowly dwindling. She ends the call and lets out a long sigh, putting her head into her arms against the desk. 

“Perhaps a break, Detective?”

She looks up to see Lucifer place a cup of coffee in front of her. 

“How...?” she starts. 

“I saw another officer get one and once I stood before the machine I just...knew what to do.” 

She takes a sip and it's perfect, not too sweet, not too bitter. Incredible. _Most of his memories wiped away and he still remembers how I like my coffee._ She wraps her hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into her palms. 

“Thank you, Lucifer.” She makes sure her gratitude is obvious. 

“You're most welcome,” he replies, pleased. 

Her coffee is drained by the time she can finally leave, loose ends all wrapped up in preparation of her mandated days off. 

Lucifer has sat at her desk, patiently, the entire time. He's - he's so _different_. She can see elements of Lucifer, _her_ Lucifer, little glimmers of his future self. But then he does something like this, going still and quiet and biddable and it's so entirely foreign to her that she can't quite comprehend it. 

“Lucifer?” 

He hums and turns towards her. 

“Aren't you bored?” she asks. 

“A bit, I suppose,” he replies, and she never thought she would be relieved to hear him say it. “But there is much to observe to keep myself entertained.”

“Really?”

He nods. “That man over there,” he says, indicating a man handcuffed to a desk nearby. The officer is interviewing them, noting things down. “Has lied three times already. Four, now.”

She's surprised he can hear them, she can just make out the tones, but the speech is indistinct. 

“I could unlock him,” Lucifer says. And the way he terms it is a bit strange. 

“Unlock him?” 

“Yes,” Lucifer says. “It's part of my future position. Or well, it was,” he amends, unsure whether it should be past or presence tense. “I am not just to punish trespassers, but to reward those serving my father faithfully. How can I do that without knowing what it is that they want?”

“Your desire mojo,” she abruptly comprehends. 

He seems slightly disgruntled at her irreverent terminology. “Yes, I suppose you could call it that.” He slides her a mischievous gaze. “I haven't actually tried it.”

She's seen him use it dozens of times, but to him it's a brand new experience. She gives him an aloof expression. He leans forward, eyes mesmerizing. “Tell me, Chloe,” he says, his voice affable and enticing. “How can I reward you? What is it that you want?”

It's not quite his seductive schtick, it's more earnest, like he genuinely wants to know what she wants. Still, there's no pull tugging at her words like with everyone else he does this to. 

She arches a brow. “I want a lot of things,” she says. 

He frowns a little and scoots closer. “Naturally,” he soothes, “But what is that one thing that would make you incandescently happy?” 

_I want you to remember,_ she does not say. It stays locked up inside of her, folded up in between her ribs, pressed tight against her sternum where he cannot pull it. 

“It doesn't work like that, Lucifer,” she tells him softly. 

His brow crinkled in disappointment. “Am I not doing this right?”

“No, no,” she reassures. “You’re doing fine, it’s just that your thing doesn't work on me. It never has.” 

He looks at her, disturbed. “How strange. You're not one of my siblings, are you?” he asks. 

She snorts. “Definitely not.” 

He studies her. “Well, then. I cannot account for it.” 

She glances at the lying perp that the officer is unsuccessfully interviewing. “Go try it on him. I bet it works fine.”

Lucifer does as he's told, approaching the officer. Douglas, Chloe sees. Lucifer's reputation is well known in the precinct, so Douglas gracefully steps aside to let Lucifer take a crack at it. 

Lucifer crouches and looks the man in the eye. There's the sounds of voices, Lucifer's smooth timbre easily distinguishable. Then the man is babbling, clearly spilling his secrets. Douglas frantically starts writing. Lucifer seems surprised at how easy it was, straightening to his full height. He and Douglas exchange words and then Lucifer wanders back. 

“So...?” Chloe prompts. 

“It was as simple as opening the Library Doors. His wants practically spilled from him.” Lucifer seems greatly perturbed. 

“What happened?” she asks, now worried. 

“They were twisted, dark, desires to make others suffer,” Lucifer answers. “I cannot reward that.” He shakes his head, like he's trying to rid himself of what he heard. “I do not understand.”

Chloe sighs. Well, that backfired spectacularly. “Let's get out of here. I'm all done with everything.”

“Are we still to visit the source of my memory loss?” he asks as she gathers her things and begins to head outside. 

Right. Best to get that over with. 

“Yes,” she answers, but cannot say anything more. He nods and bows his head just slightly as he follows her out. 

*

She parks the car with shaky hands, pushes them underneath her thighs to keep him from noticing. 

“It was here?” he asks quietly.

She nods. “The intersection just there.” She tips her head in the correct direction. 

He takes a breath and exits the car. After a moment of deliberation, she gets out and joins him. The street is clear, so Lucifer hesitantly steps out, coming to a halt exactly where he would have been standing before the vehicle hit him. 

Chloe inhales carefully.

There's a dark stain the road nearby. He looks at it for a long time. 

“Anything?” Chloe asks and she hates the hope in her voice. 

He stares at the crosswalk and lifts mournful eyes to meet hers. Chloe knows the answer before he can say it. Emotion rises up in her throat, threatening to choke her. 

“No,” he answers. He looks at her apologetically. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don't,” she says, trying to keep her words from cracking. “Don't apologize.” 

He simply nods and goes silent for a moment until she's once again mastered her emotions. 

“Why were we here?” he asks, hands folded behind his back. 

“What?”

“I know this is where I was hurt, but no one has told me why we were here,” he explains. 

“We... We were going to get milkshakes,” she replies dumbly. 

He looks politely interested, eyebrows raised. “And what is that?”

“You've never had a milkshake?” she asks him, stunned. 

“I haven't. Is that bad?” 

“No, it's not - ” she starts to say and stops herself. “You know what? It is. It _is_ bad that you've never had a milkshake. It's a goddamned _tragedy_.”

He seems a bit alarmed by her profanity, casting a nervous look upwards. He makes an undignified yelping noise when she takes his hand and starts dragging him. 

“We’re getting a milkshake right now,” she tells him firmly. 

They walk over to the diner, the bell jingles cheerily as they go inside. A waitress with a bright smile sits them in a nearby booth. Chloe decides they might as well get lunch and orders for them both. 

Once their food arrives, the conversation is put on hold in favor of consuming the delicious and greasy food. 

She’s halfway through when her phone starts to ring. She sets her burger down and fishes it out of her pocket, wondering just who would be calling her right now and reads the ID.

Amenadiel.

She looks up at Lucifer whose face is suddenly expressionless. She accepts the call and puts it to her ear.

“Amenadiel,” she greets pleasantly enough. “What can I do for you?”

“My brother isn’t answering his phone,” comes the curt reply.

“Oh, really? You know, I’m honestly not sure if he even knows what a phone is at this point, let alone where his is at. It could still be in Evidence for all I know,” she says unhelpfully.

Lucifer’s stony face starts to crack.

“Is he with you? I’d like to speak with him,” Amenadiel says with impatience.

“I’m afraid he can’t come to the phone right now,” she tells him, and watching the astonishment flicker over Lucifer’s face is wonderful. “Is there something you wanted to know? I could ask him for you.”

“No,” Amenadiel replies, voice short.

“Maybe a message I could deliver?” she prompts innocently, Lucifer’s face becomes creased with mirth. 

“ _No_ ,” Amenadiel grits out. “Look, just have him call me when he can, alright?”

“Roger that,” Chloe says and Amenadiel clicks off. 

“I can’t believe you...” Lucifer says, almost breathless with laughter.

She grins. “I didn’t even have to lie,” she says proudly. “You couldn’t come to the phone because I wouldn’t let you have it.”

“Delightful,” Lucifer’s eyes twinkle.

“You can call and talk to Amenadiel on your own terms, when _you_ want to,” she tells him firmly.

“You have my gratitude,” Lucifer tells her.

“Yet, all I request in payment is a fry,” she informs him with mock superiority, plucking said fry from his plate and biting into it with dramatic relish.

“A steep price, indeed,” he intones gravely.

She rolls her eyes at him.

“You know, Amenadiel wasn’t always such a pillock,” he says around a mouthful of burger. “He was actually a fairly good brother at first.”

“Did something happen?” she asks. 

“No,” Lucifer muses, chewing. “No, I think he just grew arrogant over time. As if being the First meant anything. He’s not an archangel, and he holds no special position beyond his placement.”

“Unlike you?” she suggests wryly.

“Well, it’s not like many of my brethren were involved in fashioning the stars,” he tells her, a touch of imperiousness in his tone. “To say nothing of being chosen to oversee Humanity once my father’s work with them is complete.”

“Ah, of course,” she says, humoring him.

“You know, I don't even understand why I would be needed,” he wonders idly, munching on a fry. “Why wouldn't humans serve my father as we in the Silver City do?”

“I don’t know, Lucifer. Some do, some don’t.” She shrugs. 

He studies her, wiping the excess salt off his fingers and onto his trousers. Chloe looks at the action in slight horror and shoves a napkin at him. Her Lucifer would be downright _appalled_.

“You don’t profess to serve my father, do you?” he asks, using the napkin to clean his hands.

It takes her a moment to register the question. “No. No, I don’t.” She had given up any sort of faith in God, or something bigger than herself in control of the world a long time ago. She prefers to have faith in people.

He nods, like he somehow expected that. “Yet, you live your life largely in accordance with his commands. Love, duty, protection. You even go as far as to work in aid of removing evil.” 

“I...do. Yes,” she admits, “But it’s because it’s the right thing to do.” 

He sits back. “The right thing. And who decides what that is?” 

“That’s a tough question. I guess each person has to decide for themselves.”

Lucifer boggles. “Truly? My father spoke of crafting something he called free will, but I didn’t realize it would be so chaotic. Each person choosing their own morality regardless of one another? How strange.” 

“It’s not quite that simple,” Chloe explains. 

Lucifer leans forward, intent upon her. 

“With,” and she can’t believe she’s saying this, “ _free will_ comes responsibilities. You have obligations to your friends and family, sometimes to society, but not always. You are accountable for your own actions. You have to deal with the consequences of those actions, good or bad.”

“Perhaps this is what Father sent me here to learn,” Lucifer says. He looks up at Chloe with deep, hopeful eyes. “Would you teach me?”

She doesn't even know how to accomplish such a thing. “Lucifer, I - ” 

He reaches out and grips her hand tightly. “Please,” he says, an edge of longing in his voice. “There is no one else I trust to do this.” 

Chloe stares at him for a moment, completely unsure how to go about what he’s asked of her. But how can she refuse him? “Okay,” she agrees. 

He grins at her, blinding and clumsy, and it makes her heart beat hard in her chest with yearning. 

“Thank you,” he says, grateful. 

She nods jerkily and swallows, shoving down the urge to pepper him with kisses. The waitress stops by with their milkshake, a massive, chocolatey thing.

“Here you are, cutie,” she says, with eyes only for Lucifer. He gives her a quick awkward smile and returns his attention to Chloe. 

“So. How does one consume this monstrosity?” he asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Well, you have to dip a fry in it first,” Chloe informs him slyly. She could never get him to try it before.

She demonstrates, scooping her fries in the shake and then into her mouth. She hums at the taste. _So good._ He looks at her, deep suspicion written on his face. 

“I don't see how...” he starts. 

“Look,” she says. “The fries were good, right? And the milkshake is good. So together they are even better.” 

“Like you and I,” he says unexpectedly. 

She's left momentarily speechless while he seizes the opportunity to dip his fries. He mulls the taste over in his mouth like it's a fine wine. 

“Not bad,” he concludes.

She feels victory flood her. “I want you to remember you said that,” she tells him sternly.

“I promise,” he replies with solemnity. 

They quickly drain the shake between the two of them, even when Chloe has to briefly stop from brain freeze. 

Their bill comes and he takes it out of some subconscious habit. He reads the slip of paper in confusion. “I believe that woman gave me her telephone number.” He looks up at Chloe. “Why would she do that?”

Chloe fights the desire to snort. So instead, she offers up explanation. “She probably finds you attractive and wants you to have a way to call her.”

This doesn’t seem to satisfy his lack of comprehension. “For what purpose?”

She can’t help but tease him a little. He’s practically seduction on legs in those suits of his and he flirts like breathing, but now the tables have turned and she’s the experienced one. 

“Well, Lucifer. When two humans find each other attractive, sometimes they get together and occasionally engage in certain physical activities they find...pleasurable,” she says, grinning. 

He sputters. “Please, I know about sex, Detective. No need to explain it to me.” He’s _actually_ blushing, ears pink, neck flushed. It’s rather adorable and she grins at him in response. 

Chloe peels off the required amount of dollar bills and a little extra for tip, not holding the waitress' attraction to Lucifer against her. “Come on, we’ve got to get back.”

“Very well.” He smiles and starts to get up but then his eyes go unfocused and it drops from his face. 

“Lucifer?” she ventures softly, but he doesn’t respond. She touches him and he doesn’t even react. 

After a moment of silence he sucks in a sharp breath and blinks. He focuses on her. “Detective,” he croaks.

“Are you alright?” 

He nods and gets to his feet. “Yes. Quite fine.” 

“Are you sure?” She stares at him intently. 

He grips her elbow and squeezes. “A slight headache, darling, nothing to fret over.” 

“I’ve got some Tylenol in the car,” she tells him as the exit the diner.

“Lovely,” he says and strides forward powerfully, making his way to the car.

He downs two of the tablets dry once he’s located the bottle in her glovebox. He checks the time. “Do you have to retrieve the child from school?” he asks, examining the time. 

“Maze is picking her up,” Chloe says. 

Lucifer nods and rests his head against the cool glass window and adds nothing further. 

*

He’s quiet the rest of the day, even more so than yesterday. Not even the arrival of Maze and Trixie seem to brighten his suddenly subdued spirits. It affects the atmosphere in the apartment and dinner is a hushed affair.

Chloe sends Maze and Trixie off to watch Netflix and busies herself with cleaning the house, something that’s often neglected between her busy schedule and Maze’s apathy toward cleanliness. 

Night has just fallen when Lucifer comes to her. She’s just finished dusting the counters and tables and he stands at her side, waiting until she’s finished. She turns to him. 

“As...as my friend, can I ask you to be honest with me?” he ventures. 

“Of course,” she replies instantly. “We're always honest with each other.”

“My brother,” he says. “He’s lying to me, isn't he?” But it's more statement than question. 

Chloe releases a slow breath. “I believe he has been. Yes.”

The corner of Lucifer's mouth pulls down with bitterness. “I thought as much. He never was very good at deception.” 

“I'm sure he has his reasons.” Chloe almost feels bad for Amenadiel, holding on so tightly to this past version of Lucifer, this Samael. It can't be healthy. 

“Oh, I'm sure he does,” Lucifer replies, voice acerbic. “And if I asked you to tell me the truth about my past, what you know of it, would you?”

Chloe is silent, truly considering his question. “I don't know,” she replies honestly. “I wouldn't want to color your past with something that's just my perspective.”

Her forthrightness seems to have reassured him. “Which is precisely why I will ask it of you.”

“You insist you are the Devil,” she starts off, getting the biggest one out of the way. He looks at her, already somehow knowing and sorrowful. “Slanderer,” he translates. 

She nods. “It's a sort of mythological figure. A biblical one. A son of god who rebelled and was cast out of Heaven for it.” 

Lucifer looks briefly stricken. “It came to that?” he asks, horrified. His expression devolves into resignation. “Of course it came to that.” His mouth twists. 

“I don't know the exact timeline,” Chloe says. “But I guess God made you the ruler of Hell. A place where people who lived a life of wickedness are punished.”

Lucifer blinks before his face twists in a sneer. “Naturally.” He studies her. “You seem skeptical,” he observes. 

She shrugs. “I’m always skeptical. It's what makes me a good detective.”

“A great detective,” he corrects, trying to muster up some levity.

She huffs half of a laugh. “Besides, I know you're not evil incarnate. If you’re the devil, well, then the things they say about the devil aren't true.” 

“Evil?” Lucifer repeats, looking suddenly perturbed. 

“But there's a lot of strange things that happen around you. Things I can't explain,” Chloe confesses. 

“And yet, now I am here. On earth.” 

“You and Maze left Hell and arrived in LA about six years ago,” Chloe sums up. 

He’s still for a moment and then he dips his head a little. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, wishing she could spare him this pain.

“Don’t apologize,” he replies, mimicking her own words to him earlier that day, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

Trixie runs up and tugs at his hand, distracting him. “I brushed my teeth and put my PJs on,” she tells him. “So I’m ready for you to sing to me,” she informs him, grinning.

“Baby, Lucifer might not feel up to it tonight,” Chloe tries to mollify. 

“Nonsense,” he refutes gently. “A promise is a promise.” He peers down at Trixie. “Go get in bed, child. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Trixie beams and darts off, little feet pattering loudly across the floor.

He stands there for a moment, hovering, like there’s something more he wants to say, but then he shuts his eyes tight, takes a breath, and turns away.

Chloe’s chest aches.

*

The song he sings to Trixie that night is different. Mournful. 

*

She prepares his spot on the couch as he sings, re-tucking his blankets, useless, mothering things that she does more out of habit. Goosebumps break out down her back when he falls silent. She can make out the low rumble of his voice, Trixie’s clear response. Then the faint click of Trixie’s door being shut. 

Lucifer pads silently over and stands nearby, watching for a moment before Chloe can no longer use fluffing his pillow as an excuse for her presence.

She wants to apologize again, even though it won’t make a difference. His eyes glisten in the light, like he knows her unvoiced words.

“Good night, Chloe,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to her cheek. 

“Goodnight, Lucifer.” Chloe gives him a flash of a smile and makes her exit just as he starts to settle down, folding up his long form on the couch.

Chloe checks in on Trixie, already nearly asleep, and kisses her daughter’s forehead. The shower is calling her name and Chloe stands under the spray for a long time, letting the hot water beat at overtaxed muscles before putting on her softest pair of pajamas. 

She slips under cool covers and tries not to think of Lucifer, sad and alone out in her living room.

*

Chloe comes awake at the sound of a blood curdling scream. She's on her feet, pulling out her gun, and past her bedroom door before she can even think. 

She finds Lucifer sitting bolt upright on the couch, fingers clawing at his face, at his arms, small rivulets of blood dripping down his skin. 

Chloe gasps at the sight and sets the gun down, clicking the safety on. He's babbling in a foreign language, words spilling off his tongue. She can't understand what he's saying, but she knows the sound of begging when she hears it. 

Chloe steps forward, to stop him from scratching himself raw, to help, _anything,_ when a hand catches her wrist and yanks her back. 

She looks at Maze, surprised. Maze’s eyes glitter in the dark, her face blank. “Don't,” she says quietly. 

“He's _hurting himself_ ,” Chloe replies. 

“Stay,” Maze commands, and it makes a chill go down Chloe's spine. 

Maze steps cautiously forward. “Lucifer,” she calls. There's no reaction, Lucifer lost in the throes of some terrible nightmare. Maze takes a breath and tries something else, speaking in the same language Chloe had heard in the hospital. 

It sounds nothing like what Lucifer is using, its syllables are sharp and rough in comparison to the smooth sounds he’s making. Chloe doesn’t think it will work, but it's enough for his head to jerk Maze’s direction. He digs his fingers into his arms, but holds there, shoulders curled forwards, shivering. 

His eyes clear a little. “Mazikeen,” he says. He asks a question in her language and she replies, taking another step forward. 

“Mommy?” a small voice pipes up and Lucifer's head snaps to attention. “Is Lucifer okay?” 

“Hey, baby.” She moves, preventing her daughter from getting closer and seeing his state. “Lucifer just had a bad dream, that's all. Everything is okay.” 

“He sounded scared,” Trixie says, letting Chloe pick her up and cuddle her close. 

“I know he did, but he's awake now. It's okay,” she reassures, bringing her daughter back into her room. She doesn't see Lucifer ease back against the arm of the couch, the muscles slowly loosening at her voice. 

Chloe sets her daughter back in bed and brings the covers up to Trixie’s chin. 

“Can you give him Miss Alien? She always helps when I get scared,” Trixie whispers, eyes big and dark in the night. 

Chloe blinks away tears. “Yeah, of course I can, baby. That's so nice of you.” 

A massive yawn splits Trixie’s face. “Tell Lucifer I hope he feels better.” 

“I will,” Chloe says and kisses her forehead. “Go back to sleep, okay?”

Trixie nods and snuggles back into her bed. Chloe leaves the door open just a crack and heads back into the living room. Maze is at Lucifer's side, fingers wrapped around his wrist. Her touch slides away at Chloe's approach. 

“Is he okay?” Chloe asks. 

“I’m fine, Detective,” he replies for himself, throat scraped raw. “I apologize for waking everyone.” 

“Here,” Chloe says, handing him the odd little stuffed alien. “It helps Trixie with nightmares. She wants you to have it for tonight.” 

He accepts it slowly, like it might bite him. Realizing it’s harmless, he tucks in into the blanket against his side. “Thank you,” he says quietly. 

Chloe looks over at Maze, but her expression is inscrutable. “Will you go get the first aid kit for me?” she asks. Maze nods and vanishes in the shadows. Chloe clicks on a nearby lamp, bathing them in warm light. She slowly reaches out for his wrists and pulls his hands away from himself. His nails are dark with blood. 

She straightens his fingers out from where they’ve curled into fists, brushes her thumbs along his palms, his skin is tacky. 

Maze brings the first aid kit and a damp washcloth. “Thank you, Maze,” Chloe murmurs. 

“Do you want me to stay?” It takes Chloe a moment to realize that Maze is talking to her.

“Fret not, Mazikeen,” Lucifer says, his voice like gravel. “No harm will come to her.”

“It better not,” Maze says, the threat clear. 

“We’ll be fine, Maze,” Chloe assures. Maze looks between the two of them, expression unreadable in the dark, before she returns to her own room on silent feet.

Chloe takes the washcloth and starts carefully cleaning his wounds, watching for when he tenses and gentling her strokes. She lets the rhythm lull them both. He'd pulled on his blank mask in front of Maze, but she knows whatever he saw, whatever he remembered, is lurking right underneath the surface.

“You want to talk about it?” she asks softly.

He shakes his head, eyes downcast, watching the hypnotic motions of the cloth running down his arms. He sucks in a shuddery breath, then another. Once she’s certain she’s gotten the worst of the blood off of him, she untwists the cap off of the antibiotic ointment, and delicately spreads it across the cuts he’d gouged into his skin. 

His breathing has grown more and more unsteady, uneven and harsh, setting his body trembling. She sets aside the ointment and moves closer, sliding a hand around his neck, bracing the other against his heaving side, and tries to hold him steady.

“How is it that you are so compassionate towards me?” he asks, sounding wretched. 

“Because you deserve it.” She presses a kiss to his temple and gracefully does not draw attention to his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer struggles with his returning memories while Chloe does her best to keep him together. Meanwhile Dan makes a breakthrough on the case and some truths come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been quite some time, but the update is finally here, hopefully it's angsty enough for you guys because I can't continue to stare at it any longer
> 
> [follow me on tumblr](https://wollfgangsblog.tumblr.com/) for previews of future stories, sneek peeks, and other nonsense

Lucifer eventually quiets, goes still. Chloe would almost think he’d fallen asleep against her except for the faint brush of his lashes against her skin when he blinks.

She keeps a steady rhythm of fingers in his hair, down his side, low on his back. He shivers. Of course, he must be cold, sitting there in next to nothing. She pulls back slowly and he lets her, but doesn't meet her eyes. 

“Do you feel up for taking a shower?” she asks. She’s cleaned him up as best she can, but he’s still sticky with sweat and blood. 

He looks down at his hands, unmoving. He could have been carved from marble. 

“Lucifer?” she prompts.

He nods jerkily and she helps him to his feet. His movements are slow, like he's in great pain, though she knows most of the damage is superficial. She leads him to her bedroom, Lucifer a great, hovering shadow trailing silently behind her, and takes him into the attached bathroom. 

“Here, let’s get you warmed up,” she murmurs more to herself as she starts the water up, making sure it’s not too hot. He strips without a care for her presence and when she turns to ask him something, gets an eyeful. 

It’s nothing she hasn’t see before, technically, but she shuts her eyes tightly on instinct and only opens them after she hears the rattle of the shower curtain being closed. 

She's not sure if she should stay or not. A low sigh can be heard over the sound of the spray and her mind dives into the gutter, picturing strong hands and the wet, glistening planes of his body. It’s _completely_ inappropriate, especially considering his mental state. It doesn’t stop her from flushing all over. 

“I’m going to go grab you some fresh clothes!” she calls out to him and doesn't even wait for a response, just flees the bathroom. 

Once she’s free of the steam filled bathroom and inhaled a few calming breaths, Chloe proceeds out to the living room and to the dufflebag Maze had fetched for him. She rifles through it and tugs out a pair of dark, silky boxer-briefs and some pajama bottoms with the tag still on them. Boggling briefly at the price, she pulls the tag free and folds them over her arm. 

The shower is still running when she returns. “I’m going to set your clothes on the counter, okay?” Chloe calls from the other side of the door. Hearing an affirmative, she darts in, sets the clothing down, and quickly darts back out. 

She waits, lying on her bed. She checks her phone, reads a few emails, hears the water turn off. Setting her phone on the bedside table, Chloe closes her eyes for a minute. Unwittingly, she falls into a light doze, only to startle awake and check the time. It’s been almost twenty minutes. Still no sign of Lucifer. 

Concerned, she gets to her feet and approaches the bathroom door. The light is still on, but it’s quiet inside. She knocks softly. “Lucifer?” The wood is cold against her cheek when she presses close to the door to listen, but there’s no response. Wavering between letting him have some time to himself or barging in, Chloe eventually decides it’s better to make sure he’s alright than maintaining his privacy. “Lucifer, can you hear me? I’m coming in.” 

She keeps her gaze low and sees bare feet followed by bare legs. She cautiously trails her gaze further up and lets out a soft breath of relief. Thankfully, he’s changed into his boxer briefs, so he’s somewhat clothed, but hasn’t progressed any further than that. 

He stands there in front of the mirror, twisted around to look at the scars on his back. Two nearly identical swathes of scarring, the tissue marbled and raised. She’s never seen them in such bright lighting and she’s struck by how large and pale they are, stretching under his shoulder blades. His eyes are dark and unreadable. 

“Lucifer,” she calls, reaching for him. He allows her to touch his arm, slide her fingers up to his wrist and gently tug him away. 

He shudders and comes back to himself, letting her draw him out of the bathroom. He looks through her bedroom door out to where the couch waits. “I don’t want to be alone,” he says, even though it looks like the admission pains him. 

Well, that works out since she doesn’t really want to leave him alone. “That’s okay,” she tells him, nodding at her bed. “We can share.”

He follows her without complaint, but comes to a halt at the edge, knees bracing against the side of her bed. “Miss Alien,” he says, voice rough. 

“What?” Chloe looks at him.

“Miss Alien,” he repeats. “She helps with nightmares.”

“Oh,” she blinks. “Oh! Right. I’ll grab her.” 

Chloe hastens out of her room to the couch to snatch up Miss Alien and returns quickly to where Lucifer still looms, awkward and unsure, on one side of her bed. He puts his hand out for the stuffed creature and holds it awkwardly, but carefully. Chloe gives him a brief smile and slides into bed. He slowly does the same and she feels a flutter of nerves at the way the bed dips, at his nearness. They’ve never - he’s never stayed over and shared the bed with her before.

He settles in, the sheets rustling as he gets comfortable. She rolls on her side to face him, his eyes fathomless in the dark. Miss Alien is tucked against him and his pillow. Lucifer’s lungs expand and he carefully breaks the silence. “My brother told me that our Father had sent us to earth to learn,” he says quietly. “But that wasn’t true, it’s not true. My Father, He -” His breathing goes harsh with emotion, his throat working. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She can’t help but reach for him. A quick touch to his cheek before she relocates it to his shoulder. He closes his eyes.

“I was a fool,” he says, voice thick with recrimination. “For believing my Father would ever express any interest in my life.”

“You had no reason not to believe Amenadiel,” Chloe soothes. 

Lucifer shakes his head. “I should have known.”

Chloe doesn’t know what to say to that, how to comfort him. She can only pull closer and hope he understands what she’s wordlessly trying to convey. His arms go around her smoothly, tucking her against the warm panes of his body, chin braced atop her head, Mis Alien trapped between them. Her mouth is nearly pressed to his skin and it’s only after she is completely sure he’s out that she risks a soft kiss just below his collarbone. 

She falls asleep to the steady sound of his breathing. 

*

When she wakes, Lucifer isn’t there. Panic bursts in her veins and she quickly sits up, looking at the empty, mussed sheets. She suddenly sags with relief when she hears his voice out in the apartment. Throwing the blankets off, Chloe swings herself out of bed and heads towards the living room. 

Lucifer and Maze are standing in the kitchen near the counter, appearing to be in deep conversation. Chloe slows, not wanting to interrupt, but a little late for it, their voices clear. 

“I am sorry for what I said at the hospital,” Lucifer tells Maze, voice quiet. “You did not deserve such callousness.” 

Maze lifts her chin. “You’re right, I didn’t.”

“I committed a grave offense against you,” he says, his voice low. 

Maze steps forward, crowding into his space. She raises a hand and for a moment Chloe thinks she might strike him. Instead, Maze presses her palm against Lucifer’s cheek with uncharacteristic gentleness. 

“You weren't yourself,” Maze absolves and goes up on her toes to press a kiss to his forehead. He dips a little to concede to the gesture. 

“Mazikeen,” he rumbles softly.

Maze turns and starts to head out towards the door and spots Chloe. “Decker,” she greets with typical off-handedness. “Don’t worry about me, I’ve got things to do.” She seems to debate something for a second and glances back to Lucifer. “Keep an eye on him for me, okay?”

Chloe snorts a little and Lucifer looks indignant. 

“Be safe out there,” Chloe calls and Maze waves lazily, closing the door behind her. 

Chloe sighs and then turns to Lucifer. He’s put his suit on, careful layers of designer name armor. He wears it more comfortably now, like he remembers the fit and feel of it. He looks like his old self. If it had been any other day, in any other circumstance, Chloe would have walked right up to him, circled her arms around his waist and leaned up for a lazy kiss. 

But it’s _not_ any other day and the circumstances are that Lucifer is still missing huge chunks of his memory. It ... it wouldn’t be right. 

Still, when he turns and smiles at her, roguish and familiar and offers up a soft, “Good morning, Detective,” it’s ordinary enough to throw her for a second. 

“Good morning, Lucifer.” She smiles back at him. 

He’s making eggs and has his shirt sleeves rolled up to accommodate. Her gaze falls to watch the hypnotic movements of his hands, unable to to help herself. Something catches at her eyes, tells her something is different, holding her attention. Then she realizes. 

There are still faint pink lines scored into his skin. 

Chloe wants to take his hands and lead him away, wants to check over his cuts, ensure he’s healing fine, but she doesn’t think he would allow it. Even so, she has to check. 

“Are you...feeling better?” 

The skin around his eyes goes tight and his movements just a bit sharper. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Omelette?” he asks, quickly changing the subject.

“Scrambled is fine,” she replies, taking him in. He flashes a false grin at her and returns his attention to the stovetop. Well, if he wants to pretend that last night didn’t happen, that he hadn’t woken up screaming and clawing...well. She can understand that. 

Chloe pours herself a mug of coffee and searches in the fridge for her creamer, adding a healthy amount. She watches the color go from dark to a milky brown and idly stirs it with a spoon. Despite falling asleep fairly quickly after Lucifer, Chloe can still feel exhaustion deep in her bones. Maybe she can catch a nap later or make it up with plenty of caffeine. She takes a seat at the table and inhales the steam from her mug before taking a small sip, letting it warm her from the inside. 

She has a lot to think about. 

He slides a plate in front of her, laden full of scrambled eggs with cheese and side of bacon. He sits down and quietly tucks into his own breakfast, noting her uncharacteristic silence.

“Everything alright?” he asks after a moment, sounding hesitant. 

She jolts back to reality and gives him a quick, reassuring smile. “As much as it can be.” She eats a bite of eggs, perfectly cooked. He looks a bit troubled by that answer, but doesn’t say anything. 

Trixie comes stumbling into the kitchen, bleary eyed. She spots Lucifer and darts over to him. “Lucifer!” She’s clambered onto his lap before he can stop her, looking wide-eyed and startled by this sudden event.

“Child,” he greets cautiously, looking at her unsurely. 

“Are you feeling better?”

Lucifer slides a knowing gaze over at Chloe and raises a brow. “You and your mother are much alike, you know,” he tells her instead. Trixie giggles, swinging her legs a little. 

“Did Miss Alien help with the nightmares?” 

Lucifer’s brow furrows a little, but he looks down at her seriously. “You know, I think she did.”

Trixie nods back with equal solemnity. “Cuddling with Mom helps too.”

Chloe chokes a little bit on her scrambled eggs. “Monkey, why don’t you get some breakfast?” she suggests. 

Trixie slides off Lucifer’s lap with a sigh and goes to make herself a plate. 

“Well, it’s not like the little urchin is wrong,” Lucifer says, carefully studying his plate as he pushes food around with his fork. “It did help.”

“I’m glad,” she replies. Chloe smiles as they finish their breakfast together. Then it’s a brief whirlwind of activity Chloe gets Trixie ready for school. She double checks that all the homework assignments are done and safely inside the backpack and that Trixie has her lunch, and finally they’re moving past the front door and out into the Californian sunshine. 

Trixie waits for the bus down at the end of the road while Chloe watches from the porch. Her daughter turns and waves as she gets on the bus and Chloe waves back. When she returns to the kitchen Lucifer is putting dishes away, setting a pan aside to soak.

She sighs loudly at him. “I was going to do that.”

He turns to look at her, a soft smile hovering at his mouth. “It’s no great hardship.”

“Still, you cooked,” she protests. She moves toward the table to pick up a few remaining dishes. 

“I must admit, I find myself curious, Detective. What shall we do with ourselves now that we have the whole day ahead of us,” he pauses intentionally, “And we’re all alone?”

Chloe snorts. “We could watch a movie? Why don’t you pick one out and I’ll clean up the rest in here.” Not that he’s left her much to do. 

“Very well,” he agrees, pouting. 

He shifts past her while Chloe takes a few plates to the kitchen and runs the water over them. She can hear Lucifer shuffle about, the noises of him studying the movie shelf. There’s not a wide selection. They’re largely Trixie’s movies, so Disney, and Disney...and more Disney. He starts murmuring to himself as she puts the dishes into the washer and sets it to start.

“Hot Tub High School,” he reads and Chloe’s heart drops. Why would the movie even be out there?! Unless Trixie had moved it... 

“Seems interesting enough. Shall we watch it?” He starts to move towards the television. 

She practically vaults over the sofa to knock the movie from his hands with a panicked “ _No!_ ” He’s too quick and has already pulled the case from her reach. She scrambles, no regard for his personal space in her mad lunge, and nearly tears it from his hands.

“We are _not_ watching this one.” Chloe nearly growls. 

“But Detective, its quality cinema!” he objects and she finally, finally catches on to the fact he’s grinning and his eyes are sparkling with humor. 

She narrows her eyes in suspicion. Then it clicks. “God _dammit_ , Lucifer! You remember it, don’t you?” she accuses, even as amusement starts to bubble up in her chest. His eyes drop to said chest and his tongue pushes against his cheek. 

“Well,” he prevaricates. 

She snorts and lets her head fall into her hands, even as a smile tugs unwittingly from her mouth. 

“Never mind all that, darling. What insipid little film should we watch? Talking fish? Or perhaps the talking lions?”

She playfully pushes at him and he obligingly sways backwards. 

“So you have your memories back?” she asks, curious and she puts Hot Tub High School on a shelf where Trixie won’t be able to reach it. Chloe turns to glance back at him.

“Some.” He slides his hands in his pockets.

“Things starting to make sense?” she asks.

He laughs, but it’s bitter. “Not in the least. It’s all jumbled up together. I have memories of beating Amenadiel’s face in and I have memories of us laughing together.” His smile slowly slips from his face. “I have memories of walking the halls of Hell and hearing the screams of the damned and walking down the streets of LA in the daylight.” 

He shakes his head and there’s a flicker of something uncertain across his expression. 

“And you,” he says. “ _Nothing_ about you makes any sense at all.” He looks rather adorable, head tilted slightly, forehead crinkled with slight puzzlement. At least he doesn’t seem unhappy about the confusion, seeming more intrigued than anything. 

“It doesn't?” Now he has her interest piqued.

“Not at all. I remember trying desperately to have sex with you and being constantly rejected. I remember telling you that we were only friends and hating every second of it.” 

“Really,” Chloe says. Well, isn't that interesting to know. 

He nods earnestly. “And I remember being...on a date with you?” he says like he’s unsure, like it’s a question. His brow furrows. “But you don’t even _like_ me.”

“I do like you,” she corrects. 

He glances up at her, surprised. “You do?”

She nods, biting down on her lip. “I like you a lot,” she admits. 

“Oh.” He blinks. He opens his mouth to say something when the phone rings. 

Chloe gives him an apologetic look and sees that it’s Dan. “One second.” Lucifer dips his head in acquiescence.

“Hey, Dan. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. It’s just - I know the Lieutenant gave you the day off,” Dan says, “but I thought you might want to come in and see this. We think we’ve identified the two suspects involved in the robbery, could lead us to IDing the driver responsible.”

“The one...” Chloe can’t bring herself to say it. She swallows carefully, emotion constricting her throat. She can still hear the phantom screech of tires and the horrible crunch. If it hadn’t been for Lucifer it would have been herself and Trixie in the vehicle’s path. Chloe’s blood boils. 

“The one who hit Lucifer, yeah.” Dan finishes for her, voice pitched at gently as he can make it.

Chloe bites her bottom lip and considers. “I want to come in.” It might be too much for Lucifer right now, but she wants to know who’s responsible.

“Alright. I’ll let them know.”

“Thanks, Dan,” she says, grateful.

“Sure thing, Chloe. See you in a bit.”

She hangs the phone up. Lucifer is studying her with those dark, piercing eyes. 

“Something has happened,” he concludes. 

“Yes. Dan thinks they’ve identified the robbery suspects in question.” Chloe neatly side steps making herself say what it was in question for. 

His eyes darken. “I see. Shall we be going to the precinct, then?”

“I am,” she answers carefully. “You don’t have to.”

He sets his jaw. “Am I not allowed?” 

Something in the wording sets her on edge. “It’s not up to me,” she tells him carefully, “whether to allow you or not. It’s up to you.” 

She reaches out and touches his wrist, gathers it up in her fingers. He doesn’t pull away even though he looks down at her grip hesitantly. She presses her thumb against his pulse. It’s fast. 

“But as someone who cares about you, I don’t want you to push yourself if it’s too difficult.”

He stares at her brow furrowed, like she’s incomprehensible, a puzzle he can’t quite figure out, and then looks away, head shaking. “Of course, forgive me.”

“For what?” she asks, now the confused one.

He answers her question with another. “You truly are good, aren’t you?” he says with wonder.

It makes her want to blush, his strange compliment, but she just shakes her head a little. “I’m not,” she refutes. “But I try to be.” She strokes the soft inner skin of his wrist and his pulse point flutters. 

He pulls away and clears his throat. “Right. We ought to be leaving then, Detective, if we are to catch ourselves some bad guys.” He brushes by her and starts heading towards the door and Chloe feels oddly cold. 

“Right,” she says, gathering her keys. “Let’s go.”

*

Dan isn’t sure if calling Chloe was the right thing to do. He only knows that if it were him, if it were his partner - he’d want to know. So he picked up the phone and dialed. 

She arrives with Lucifer a half step behind her as always. He’s looking better, more like himself and less like a stranger wearing his face. Still, he seems a bit jumpy, fingers twitching at his sides and he stays closer to Chloe than normal.

“Hey, Dan,” Chloe says upon seeing him.

“I got it all set up in the conference room. C’mon.” He jerks his head for them to follow and heads to where Ella and the case files wait.

The moment Lucifer is through the door, Ella darts forward and wraps him up in a tight hug, face pressed to his chest. “Man, I’m so glad to see you’re alright.” 

“Ah, thank you, Miss Lopez.” Lucifer squirms and places careful hands on her shoulders, gently pushing. 

She easily releases him and beams up at him. “You remembered my name.”

He blinks in surprise. “Yes. Yes, I suppose I did.” He wipes his hands on his trousers and steps away from Ella and closer to where Dan and Chloe stand.

“What have you guys got for us?” Chloe asks, getting them back on track. 

“Right!” Ella exclaims. “Well, we got a match on the tire treads and the partial plate, which gave us this.” She throws up an image of a slightly beat up Chevy crossover. Dan watches as Lucifer stiffens at Chloe’s side. 

“That’s the one.” Chloe’s voice is firm in the way she forces it to be when it wants to shake. Dan watches her carefully and catches Lucifer surreptitiously brush the back of his hand against her fingers.

Ella nods, eyes sympathetic and quickly moves on. “It’s registered to a Carolyn Trahan.” A picture of a pale faced woman replaces the vehicle.

“This is what the guys down at Robbery put together,” Dan says, file in hand. “There’s been at least four different bank robberies in the Los Angeles area that match their MO. Carolyn and her brother Brian are suspects number one and two.” 

A man’s picture joins Carolyn’s on the screen. There’s not much family resemblance, he’s tanned golden compared to his sibling, hair as dark as hers is light. “A few have camera surveillance of a vehicle matching this description waiting nearby. They think there’s a third person involved, likely the getaway driver.” 

“There was,” Lucifer says, sudden and sure. 

Dan nods and makes a note. “We’ve put out an APB on both of them and the vehicle. Units are on the lookout for them now.”

“If they haven’t decided to go underground.”

“It’s possible.” Dan frowns. “But these guys aren’t particularly bright. They’ve shown a pattern of escalation since their first success. I don’t think they'll wait for the heat to die down before striking again.”

“Robbery has a profile on the kind of banks they like to hit and they've sent some boys to keep an eye on the likely targets.”

“Is there a reason we are not out there attempting to catch the perpetrators?” Lucifer asks. 

Dan raises his brow in slow disbelief. “Besides the fact that Chloe is off work? Uh, _yeah_.”

“Lucifer, it wouldn't be a good idea,” Chloe cautions. “As much as I would like to, we're too close to this.”

Lucifer tenses his jaw, head angling in a way that means he's going to be stubborn about something. “I ought to go punish the miscreant, Detective. After all, I'm the Devil, it’s what I do.” There's a bitter twist to his words. 

Ah, Dan taps the edge of the case file folder against his hand and wisely takes a step away. So whatever memory or trauma that made Lucifer believe he was Satan himself has returned. That can't have been fun. 

“Listen, I want to be out there dragging the people responsible to justice, I do, but we can't jeopardize the case by being involved.” Chloe reaches out, grips at his forearm. “It's bad enough that we're here, we're already pushing it. The team down at Robbery is on it and Dan and Ella are going to do their best, okay? Trust them. They're good at their jobs.”

“I know,” Lucifer replies a bit sharply. 

“Alright,” she says, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to assume you didn't.”

A knock on the glass pulls everyone's attention to the cop at the door. “Detective Decker? Detective Stewart wants to see you.”

Chloe looks curious. 

“He’s working on your cases while you’re on leave and has a question for you,” the cop adds. 

“Of course he does,” she mutters under her breath and Dan fights a grin. “Yeah, I'll be right there,” she calls back. The cop nods and exits. She looks up at Lucifer. “Just... Just stay here until I get back. Okay?” 

He nods, but looks unhappy about it. 

Dan huffs a quiet laugh. “Chloe will be lucky if Stewart doesn’t completely botch things up while she’s gone.”

“Oh, come on, Dan. He’s not _that_ bad,” Ella protests. Dan raises his eyebrows. “Okay, maybe he is that bad,” Ella concedes in a rare show of candidness. “But he’s sweet!”

Dan chuckles and shakes his head at her. “Right. Well, I think I'm going to run down to Robbery and see if they've had any luck. Ella, keep me posted if you get anything, okay?”

“Roger that, Dan.” She snaps a smart salute. She turns to Lucifer. “I know things are rough right now buddy, but is there anything we can do for you?”

Dan doesn't hear any reply as he heads towards the door. 

“Lucifer?” Ella asks at the lack of response. It catches at Dan’s attention. He stops and turns to see. 

Lucifer is staring off into space, face blank. 

“Lucifer?” Ella repeats, now concerned. 

Dan leaves his spot at the door and walks over to him. “Hey, man, you alright?” Lucifer doesn't even acknowledge hearing them. If he _can_ hear them. 

Dan closes a hand around Lucifer's arm with the intention of gently shaking him a little. Lucifer lashes out, instinctual. The back of his hand meets Dan’s face, the edge of a ring cutting across his cheek. 

The pain is blindsiding and Dan stumbles back a few steps, catching himself of the edge of the table.

“Dan!” Ella calls out with concern as he raises a hand to his face. Nothing feels broken, but his eyes water from the sharp, unexpected burn. His fingers come away with a small smear of blood.

Ella is there, cool hands dancing lightly over his cheek and brow, face concerned. 

“Ow. That's going to bruise,” Dan croaks, blinking. 

“Damn, Dan.” Ella probes at something and he winces. “You're gonna have a shiner. Lucifer, what the hell did you do that for?” she asks and then turns only to see empty space. “Lucifer?”

There's a muffled sort of noise and it directs their attention downwards. Lucifer has wedged himself into the corner, long limbs folded up tight. His eyes are staring into middle distance, looking at nothing, but he shivers and flinches.

“Get Chloe,” he commands Ella. She hesitated and he pins her with his stare. “Now.”

Ella nods and turns to escape the lab to search for Chloe, moving quick. 

Dan's face throbs something fierce, but he knows he's probably escaped lightly considering Lucifer's freakish strength. He slowly couches and pitches his voice as soothing as he can make it. 

“Hey, Lucifer. Can you hear me at all?” He studies Lucifer's reactions, only the slightest twitch toward him as evidence that Lucifer is aware of him. This is more than just an average panic attack, this looks more like a PTSD flashback. Dan's seen them before. 

“Don't worry, I'm not going to come any closer. I'm just going to wait right here, I’m not going to move.” He slips from his crouch into a sitting position, settling in to wait. “Chloe is on her way, okay?” Dan says quietly. “I shouldn't have grabbed you like that, man. I'm sorry. I won’t do it again. Everything is okay now, you're in the precinct. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you.”

Lucifer's hands flex with distress, breath still coming in unsteady gasps.

“Can you take some deep breaths with me, buddy? Nice and easy. In,” he demonstrates, “and back out. There you go, you're okay.” Dan keeps up a litany of soothing chatter, periodically reminding Lucifer where he is and that Chloe is on her way. 

Lucifer’s mouth forms words, but he doesn’t voice them. The door bursts open and he startles, curling up even smaller, closing his eyes shut tight, undoing any progress Dan had made. At least Chloe is here now with Ella looking worried beside her. 

Chloe stops just in front of Lucifer, lowering down to one knee. “Lucifer,” she calls and he opens his eyes. They focus on her, but he’s still in the grips of whatever it is he’s seeing. She reaches out to carefully wrap her hand around his ankle before Dan can warn her, but Lucifer doesn’t move at all, besides intermittent shaking. 

“How long has he been like this?” Chloe turns and asks. 

“A few minutes,” Dan answers. “He’s not really responsive, but he hasn’t moved since he -” Dan gestures to how Lucifer has scrunched himself down into the corner.

Chloe studies his face. He must make a pretty picture, he can already tell it must be swelling badly from the way it encroaches on his vision. “Did Lucifer...?” she asks.

“He didn’t mean to,” Dan says quickly, firmly. “I grabbed him and he just reacted.”

Her lips thin, but she turns her attention back to Lucifer, quietly talking to him. Slowly, he turns to face her, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Chloe?” Lucifer asks, voice confused. 

“Hey,” she smiles at him. “Hey, there you are.”

“Chloe,” he repeats. Then his hand snaps forward and encircles her wrist tightly. “Chloe, it’s not safe - it’s not - it’s not _safe_.” 

“Lucifer,” she tries to calm, gently attempting to pull free of his hold, but unable to.

“You can’t be here,” he says, voice frantic, heedless. “It’s not safe.” He starts pulling at her, and she half falls forward into Lucifer’s lap. Dan darts forwards out of fear for her, ice in his veins. Lucifer turns in the direction of Dan’s movement, eyes wild and unseeing. Wrong. He grips Chloe tightly and _growls_ , the sound raw and grating. The hairs on Dan’s neck stand on end.

“Holy shit,” Ella breathes quietly. 

“Dan, don’t.” Chloe’s voice is firm, but he can hear the slightest note of panic in her tone. She has a hand braced on Lucifer’s knee and pushes herself upright. 

He forces himself to take a step back, but Lucifer doesn't stop growling, a wild, terrifying noise Dan didn’t think it were possible for someone to make. Inhuman, almost. So he stands there, face aching, heart beating panic-fast in his chest, and watches Chloe press a hand to Lucifer’s cheek. 

“Lucifer, it’s okay. We’re not in any danger. We’re safe. We’re in the precinct with Dan and Ella. I’m here with you. It’s safe, I promise.” 

He fixes his gaze back on her and the noise stutters and curls into a short whine before cutting out completely. 

“That’s it,” Chloe praises. “Can you let go of me now?” She tugs at where his hand is still closed around her wrist. His fingers unwind and Dan can see the delicate skin is red where Lucifer had held it. “Thank you,” she tells him. She brings her now free hand up to his face, cradling both sides. “I’m here and we’re both safe. Come back to me, Lucifer.”

Lucifer blinks and slowly his eyes clear and his trembling lessens. “I...” he trails off. “Chloe? Where...?”

She brushes her thumb against his skin. “You're here in the precinct. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” he croaks, “We came in to see the progress they made on the case.”

Chloe’s shoulders ease with relief. “That’s right.”

He starts to unwind from how he's curled himself around her, limbs slowly relaxing. Chloe’s palms slide down his neck and rest on his chest. His eyes widen as he realizes their positioning. “You’re -” he swallows. “You’re in my lap.”

Dan waits to feel that twinge of jealousy, but it’s surprisingly absent. There’s just slight amusement at the way Chloe’s cheeks go pink and she quickly scrambles to her feet. 

Lucifer stares at the empty space she left behind dumbly. “I'm...on the floor. Why am I on the floor?”

“Here, let’s get you up.” Chloe grips at Lucifer’s arm and Dan cautiously moves forward to help, both of them hauling Lucifer to his feet. That’s when Lucifer notices Dan’s face, frowning.

“Daniel,” Lucifer reaches out to touch the damage he’d caused and Dan fights every instinct to flinch, holding steady as Lucifer’s touch, surprisingly light, glances over this swelling eye. Lucifer looks deeply troubled. “I’ve harmed you.”

“Ah, it’s no big deal,” Dan brushes off, hopping up to sit on the conference table, valiantly ignoring the trickle of fear down his spine. “It was an accident.”

Lucifer’s mouth thins. Ella has brought over an ice pack that Dan gratefully takes and applies to his face. 

“You must allow me to make reparations,” Lucifer insists. 

“Dude, really, it’s okay. Ohhh, that’s nice.” The ice feels heavenly against his heated skin and Dan closes his eyes for a second to take it in. Realizing that Lucifer won’t take no for an answer, he adds, “Look, you want to make it up to me? Get me one of those ridiculously expensive top shelf whiskeys you got, alright? Then we’re even.”

“I - alright.” Lucifer still seems unhappy. 

Dan turns to Chloe. “I’ll - I’ll keep working on the case with Robbery, but maybe you should take him home until he’s...” Dan pauses. “Less stressed.”

“Right,” Chloe nods, looking at his eye sympathetically. 

Dan gives her his most charming and roguish grin, half obscured by the ice pack. She huffs an amused sound at him and rolls her eyes. 

“Alright, keep me posted. I gotta get out of here before the Lieutenant spots me and decides I should be on desk duty for the next three weeks.”

“Sure, sure.” Dan switches to looking at Lucifer with his good eye. “Take it easy, man. Have a bubble bath or something.” 

Lucifer gives him a half-hearted attempt at a smile and it vanishes nearly as quickly as it arrives. “I am truly sorry, Daniel.”

“Dude. It was an accident. You didn't even hit me that hard, practically a love tap.” 

It finally pulls a genuine hint of a smile from him, the edge of his mouth curling. “Yes, well. Let's all be grateful for that. It wouldn't do to damage your face any further. It's bad enough already.”

“Ha. Ha.” Dan deadpans. “Get out of here, funny guy.” 

Chloe tugs Lucifer out of the conference room and Dan waits until they're out of sight before he leans back against the table and groans. 

*

The ride home is silent.

“About what happened at the precinct...” she starts.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says sharply. 

“Okay, okay,” she soothes. “That's fine.”

He shifts himself closer to the door, somehow giving the impression of folding in on himself, despite not really moving. He closes his eyes and rests his head and nether one of them speaks the rest of the way home. 

Chloe isn’t sure what she should do. She isn't even sure if there's anything she _can_ do. Lucifer has withdrawn and gone pensive since they've arrived back at the apartment. The day passes on awkwardly as she tries to keep herself busy, but her thoughts constantly stay to him and she can hardly accomplish anything. 

Eventually, there's nothing left to do around the house and her interrupted sleep last night is staring to catch up with her. She finds Lucifer sitting at the kitchen bar, browsing the web on her laptop. He closes the window as she approaches, expression guarded. 

She's too tired to worry about it right now, only offering him a quick smile. “Hey, I’m going to lay down for a bit, okay? Come get me of you need anything.”

“Enjoy your rest, Detective,” he says. 

It doesn't escape her notice that his words aren't an agreement. She gives his shoulder a squeeze and heads toward her bedroom. The sheets are still messy from this morning, but she pays it no mind, settling in and tucking her arm under her pillow. 

She’d thought Lucifer had been getting better. He’d seemed more and more is normal self, more and more memories coming back to him. But the episode at the precinct had been far worse than the one before. It's almost burned into her memory - Lucifer’s eyes, unfocused and scared, his teeth bared at a danger only he could see. 

It had frightened her. What horrors had he experienced that made shoving yourself into a corner and snarling the best option? She can almost feel his limbs pressing in, how he had curled around her, protecting her even in his frenzied state. It breaks her heart and makes tears prickle behind her eyes. She shuts them tight and tries to turn her mind off. It doesn't work. 

She manages a light doze for a short while before finally giving up. Shoving the covers away grumpily, she goes out to watch TV and resigns herself to another cup of coffee. 

At least it's relatively fresh, though there's no sign of Lucifer in the kitchen. She takes a careful sip from her mug and settles on the couch. The caffeine should rejuvenate her enough to get through the rest of the evening. 

Lucifer shows up at her side a few minutes later, jaw tight with determination. “I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality, Detective, but I think it’s best I return to Lux.”

“Alone?” She’s surprised, but in a distant, sort of hurt kind of way. 

“Yes.”

“Is... Is this about your nightmare?” she asks as gently as she can, setting her cup aside. 

He goes silent. 

“Lucifer,” she says and reaches out to him. “It’s natural with all you’ve been through that your subconscious is trying to work -”

“It’s not that,” he cuts off. “Nightmares are nothing new.” He looks away abruptly like he hadn’t intended on saying that and continues. “The - the memories, the _flashbacks_ , on the other hand. The first time I only hurt myself. This time I harmed Daniel.”

“That was an accident,” Chloe cuts in, “Dan doesn’t blame you.” But Lucifer just shakes his head. 

“That's the point, Detective. An accident. I didn't even mean to. Next time, I might -” He stops, swallows. “I feel safe here, Detective. But it might not be safe for _you_ to have me staying here. Please. I couldn’t bear it if I...” he trails off. 

His gaze falls to her wrist where his fingers left behind shadowy smudges that will no doubt develop into bruises. She lets her hand fall and tugs her sleeve down.

“Okay,” she tells him softly. “If that’s what you think is best.”

He nods. “It is.” 

“Then I can drive you over now, if you like.”

He inclines his head. “I’ll gather my things.”

She doesn’t like it, his leaving, the blank cast to his face, but she won’t strip him of his decisions. If he wants to go back to Lux, then she’ll take him, even if she hates it. 

He’s quiet on the ride over, his eyes far away in a manner she’s starting to recognize. She wonders what he’s remembering now. If she should ask. Whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to throw him into a flashback, his breathing remains relatively steady and he doesn’t start to shake. Chloe watches him from the corner of her eye all the same.

Lucifer unfolds his lanky form from her car once she parks in the alley. He stands there for a moment, one hand on the roof of the vehicle, staring out to the street, perfectly still. Then he jolts suddenly into motion, striding out to the entrance of Lux. 

“Lucifer?” she asks, but he doesn’t answer. “Lucifer!” She chases after him. He turns the corner and she’s forced to jog in order to catch up to him, his strides too lengthy. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, his tall form casting a long shadow in the sunlight. 

Oh. Chloe approaches behind him slowly, knowing what holds him here. Their first case. Lucifer seems to be remembering one horrible thing after another. 

“She died here, didn't she?” he asks, standing too still, looking down at concrete that is clean of blood. 

“Yes,” Chloe says softly.

“I can't remember her name,” he says, anguished. 

“Delilah,” Chloe offers.

“Delilah,” he repeats, like his tongue is caressing the syllables, like he's slotting the memory firmly into place. “She was young and bright. I remember being angry, so _angry_ , I -” he swivels on his feet suddenly. 

Chloe is grateful that there's nearly no traffic, because he walks right out into the street. Fear steals the breath from her lungs “Lucifer -” she protests, panicked, moving after him before he comes to a halt near the median. 

He's looking at what seems like unremarkable pavement, but she remembers it well enough. The twisted metal of the crashed car, the bubbled blood. 

“The man responsible. I spoke to him.” Lucifer is very clearly thinking hard. Then he looks up at her. “That’s when we met.”

Chloe joins him and takes his hand, “Come away from the street,” she commands and leads him away from the road and back to the safety of the sidewalk, heart in her throat. 

“I frightened you,” Lucifer realizes once they're back at Lux’s entrance.

“Don’t - Don’t walk out into the street like that.” She’s proud at how little her voice wavers despite the terror still coursing through her. 

“My apologies, Detective.” Lucifer’s reply is subdued. 

Chloe just nods, but avoids looking at him as they enter the club. Lucifer looks around like it’s someplace familiar to him, but in a remote way. Not like it was home. Not like how he traversed her apartment once he was settled before his own memories stole that away, took his peace of mind. 

He stares at the piano and then walks over to it, motions jerky, but when he sits his movements are smooth. His hands find the proper placement and hover there for a moment. Then he puts his fingers to the keys and plays. 

It takes her a moment to recognize the tune, but it's the first song he sang to Trixie. Chloe feels heat behind her eyes as she watches his hands move across the instrument.

His fingers abruptly come to a halt, a sudden clang of discordant sound and it startles her. He stands, piano bench scraping loudly across the floor. 

“Thank you for driving me over.” It’s said politely and nothing more. It makes her feel cold all over.

She wants to offer to stay with him, but she knows he will refuse. Instead, she asks, “Will you be alright?”

He smiles tightly. “Goodnight, Detective.”

Chloe has a bad feeling about leaving him there, but he’s left her no other choice. He's clearly dismissed her. She gives him a sad, acknowledging smile. “Goodnight, Lucifer.”

He starts playing once more just as she exits. She doesn’t linger to try and identify the melody.

*

He plays for a bit longer once Chloe has left, but it isn’t the same. The notes ring hollow and empty in the spaces of an unoccupied Lux. 

A memory grips him and his fingers slow to a stop. It’s fragmented, but it sucks the breath from his lungs, the sounds of a gunshot, pain ripping through his abdomen. He presses his hand to his stomach and only imagines that it feels wet, a half uttered prayer on his tongue. A desperation that shakes his bones fills him. 

He has to get to Chloe. He has to protect her. She’s in danger.

Lucifer is halfway across the floor of Lux when he realizes. Malcolm is long dead and Chloe is safe, her offspring too. It had cost him his pride, but it had been a willing sacrifice, easily made. Too easily.

It feels like he's unraveling, all his insides yanked out and then shoved back in wrong. It makes him afraid and that makes him angry. 

He flees up to his penthouse. He half stumbles from the elevator, wraps his hand around a decanter and brings it to his mouth. He swallows, amber liquid slipping from the edges of the glass and dribbling down his throat. Once he’s drained it, he grabs another, until things are pleasantly fuzzy and the phantom pain in his stomach had faded to a dull, easily ignorable, ache.

Remembering that he hides the best stuff under the cabinet where Maze never thinks to look, he pulls out a bottle, the label faded and yellow with age. The year is nearly illegible and it burns sweet and sharp down his throat. When he tries to set up a row of shots, his hands fumble, sending one off the edge to shatter against the floor. He pays it no mind and fills the rest with an unsteady pour. 

He tosses them back one at a time and then refills them. He doesn’t hear the elevator descend and ascend again. He doesn’t hear it ding, nor the soft hiss of the doors sliding open. 

“Samael,” Amenadiel calls out with a familiarity that stings. The gentle, drink induced fogginess vanishes in an instant, everything turning sharp and clear. Of _course,_ he shows up now. 

“Samael is dead,” Lucifer says harshly, lifting his head to stare back at his brother. “He died a long time ago.”

Amenadiel slows to a halt, looking perplexed. “...Lucifer?”

Lucifer smiles with too many teeth, feeling like his face would split open if it stretched any wider. “Hello, brother. Why are you here?” 

“The Detective told me that you'd quit her home and returned here. She sounded distressed, I merely came to check on you.” Amenadiel eyes the empty bottles distastefully, so Lucifer intentionally throws back another shot.

“Truly? You didn't come to try and twist the truth some more? And they call me Father of the Lie.” He tisks, anger simmering in his blood, mixing dangerously with the alcohol. "You played Samael for a fool didn’t you? Painted him a pretty picture, Dad sending us to earth to _learn_? _We can only trust each other?_ ”

A flicker of shame crosses Amenadiel’s face.

Lucifer’s twists up into a snarl. “I ought to rip you _limb from limb.”_

“I did what I did in order to spare you,” Amenadiel replies, not even doing the decency of denying it. 

“Oh, _spare_ me.” Lucifer rolls his eyes. “And suddenly having Samael, your sweet little brother back surely had _nothing_ to do with it.” 

Amenadiel shifts guiltily. “I won’t deny that.” He looks down at his hands helplessly. “We used to be so close.”

Lucifer barks a laugh, stepping away from the bar. “You and I remember things very differently, I assure you.” 

Amenadiel flinches a bit at the unsubtle reminder that Lucifer is now more than aware of their history. He lifts his chin, “That may be true, but don’t minimize that I also wished to protect you.”

A sharp burst of anger flares in Lucifer’s chest, makes him spin on his heel to face Amenadiel, the room spinning slightly along with it. The words spill from his tongue, unbridled and vitriolic. “Protect me? From what? From knowing my Father’s an asshole of massive proportions?”

“Do _not_ speak ill of -” 

“I'll speak of Him however I like,” he snaps back. Lucifer continues on like his brother hadn’t said anything, fury boiling in his veins. “Or perhaps you mean you wished to protect me from remembering what it felt like to catch flame and burn, writhing in agonizing pain? It's a rather unique experience, I assure you.”

“I never wanted this for you.”

The words are meaningless as Lucifer strides over to the bookshelves, intentionally facing away from his brother, offering only his back. His fingers skip quickly across leather spines until he reaches the one he seeks and tears it free. 

“You mean this?” Lucifer hurls the book at him, letting it tumble and lay unevenly on the ground, pages bent. “To be vilified and hated? To be feared as the personification of all evil thanks to this - this propaganda, this _filth_.” He sneers. 

“Lucifer.”

“The Rebellion,” he says scathingly. “As if I had gathered my brothers and sisters together for war. As if it wasn't just _me_ ,” he says, furious. “ _Screaming_ \- ” He jerks abruptly away, jaw gritted as he struggles to control himself, bone-white fingers gripping the shelf. He takes a shuddering breath. “Because no one would listen.”

Amenadiel, for once, is silent. Lucifer feels all of the venom drain from him in a sudden swoop, leaving him feeling empty and tired. 

“As if hadn't fallen to my knees and begged Father for the freedom he had so easily given to the humans.” Lucifer laughs weakly. “But you could never understand that, could you? That's why we aren't close, Amenadiel. That's why we will _never_ be close.”

Lucifer stares out towards the balcony and ignores how his vision goes blurry. 

“I see that I've come at a bad time,” Amenadiel intones quietly. “I will leave you to your solitude.” 

Lucifer doesn’t watch him leave, isn’t sure why Amenadiel’s absence hurts when all he wanted was for him to go. He chokes out a horrible sound and shuts his eyes tightly, tries to ignore how the pain in his chest feels almost as terrible as the memory of being shot. He wipes at his face, telling himself the wetness he finds there is sweat and nothing more. 

He ignores the nausea roiling in his stomach and braces against his bookshelves for balance as he makes his way unsteadily to his bedroom. 

Lucifer doesn’t want to fall asleep, doesn’t want to dream, but weariness drags heavily at his limbs. 

He usually needs no more than a power nap, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, unless he’s intentionally shagged himself into exhaustion. But lately it’s like he has no control, his brain forcibly switching into rest mode to sift through the mess of his memories. He’s hardly got his head on the pillow, tears still trailing down his face, before sleep mercilessly pulls him under. 

He dreams of Heaven. 

He dreams of the suffocating expanse of the Silver City. He dreams of siblings full of emptiness that look down on him in disgust. Mirrors of his Father, merely reflecting Him, never shining on their own. 

Samael used to shine, he was the brightest of them all once. 

Everything around him is cold and calculated and placed just so and they will grind him down into place even if they have to break him to make him fit. He dreams of a silence that stretches out like a scream. Praise burns falsely in his throat, scalds his tongue. He feels too full of himself to be filled by anything else. 

It was pride before the fall, they say. 

He dreams of Hell. 

The screaming and the begging and the endlessness. He dreams of a room with the faintest strain of music that drags him past the door and puts a blade in his hand. He dreams of demons and cages and chains that rattle as the things locked inside strive to escape. 

It is terrible and it suits him because he is terrible. A blackened, twisted thing. 

He dreams of blue ash that never stops falling. 

He wakes up alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not expecting different results, but hoping for them, she tries calling Lucifer again. While the phone rings, it never picks up. Uneasiness settles in her bones. She bites at her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth.
> 
> Lucifer had clearly wanted space, but... Perhaps, she could just...check in on him. Just really quick. See if he needed anything. That surely would be okay. Right? Chloe nods to herself and decides to swing by Lux before grabbing lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it lives!

They start to hurt. His memories. It's more than just psychosomatic fear, but real, actual, pain. 

He's asleep when the first bolt of agony in his head tears him awake. It feels like a railroad spike being driven into his skull. He curls up in the sheets, sweating through memory after memory. His fingers dig painfully into his scalp, but he hardly notices it. 

Eventually, it passes. When it abates, he lays there a moment, trying to catch his breath. His jaw aches from gritting his teeth for so long. A mournful emotion rises in his chest, whines through his throat. 

He wants Chloe. 

His mind had been scrambled and he’d been so alone and confused, and... she’d been there. A safe place to land. Constant and gentle. Being without her, this intentional separation, is like being flayed open and left there, gutted. 

He _misses_ her, wants her here to soothe the hair away from his face, press cool hands to his skin. He wants her soft voice, her tender gaze. He's half tempted to dial her up and swallow his pride. Ask her to come back; to beg, if necessary. 

Ruthlessly, he shoves the feeling away, steels his spine and forces himself upright. The sudden motion makes his vision fuzz black at the edges. He sucks in air, open mouthed, trying to will away the sudden darkness encroaching on his field of view. 

He makes it as far as a shower and a change of clothes, sipping at a scotch in an effort to dull the ceaseless pounding in his head, when the pain comes back. It's perhaps even worse than before. He drops the tumbler he’d been holding, nearly landing on the shattered glass when he hits the ground himself. 

The memories come in bursts, entire decades shoving themselves in his brain, leaving him curled up on the hardwood, trying not to smash his skull against the floor in an effort to make it stop. 

He gets lost in a flashback, an episode of Hell that leaves him screaming until his voice gives out. Memories of Heaven are hardly better. 

Time passes by in a horrible blurr. At some point he throws up, acid burning at his throat, the pain unrelenting as his memories forcibly stuff their way inside his head. It's almost a blessing when he finally passes out. 

*

Chloe stands in her kitchen and reflects. The apartment feels empty without him. It had only been a few days, but she had grown used to his constant presence with her. Now he's gone and it feels...wrong. 

Even Trixie notices the quiet, asks about Lucifer. 

“He went back to Lux, baby.” Chloe tries to break the news as gently as she can. 

Trixie looks downcast. “Oh.” She spoons aimlessly at her cereal and then looks up, using her big brown eyes to full effect. “Will he be coming back?”

Chloe swallows around the emotion in her throat. “I don't know.” 

“But he promised to sing to me.” 

Chloe's heart breaks a little to hear her daughter sound so sad. She runs a hand over Trixie’s head. “I know. I know he did, Trix, but he's going through a really hard time right now.” 

“Because he’s remembering stuff?” Trixie lowers her voice, “ _Bad_ stuff?” 

Chloe blinks, a little surprised that Trixie seems to have an excellent grasp on the situation. “Yeah. Bad stuff.”

She nods, accepting this before her little brow crinkles in confusion. “But be should be _here_ , so we can help with the bad stuff.”

Chloe sighs. “I would really like that, but Lucifer wants to be by himself for a little while. I don't want-” Chloe stops, tries to figure out how to explain free will to her child and how intrinsic it is to Lucifer. “It's very important that Lucifer makes his own choices. I don't want to make him sad by deciding for him.” 

“But he's _already_ sad, Mom.” 

Chloe has to admit that Trixie’s argument is pretty sound. But there’s nothing to be done. “Finish your breakfast,” she says instead. 

Trixie grumbles a little, but obeys. 

Chloe cleans up the kitchen and packs her daughter’s backpack up while Trixie gets ready for school. She gets a quick “Love you!” before Trixie heads out the door to catch the bus. 

Maze is of a similar opinion as Trixie when she notes Lucifer’s desertion. Her features crinkle up into a snarl. 

“He's a fool.” She shoulders her duffle bag. It clinks like chain rattling together. Chloe doesn't want to know what's in it. “But I don't have the time to deal with his stupidity,” Maze concludes. 

Chloe thinks that's a bit harsh, but isn't able to get into it because Maze is striding out the door with an aura of menace. 

The house falls into silence. 

Chloe sighs and tries to find ways to keep herself busy. She knows the forced leave was necessary, but it’s hard to come up with things to do without Lucifer there. 

She cleans, she organizes, she checks her email. She’s reduced to making her appointments color coded on her calendar when her phone rings. She practically leaps for it, any sort of distraction would be great right now. Maybe someone up there is looking out for her. 

It's the precinct. Chloe quickly accepts the call and brings it to her ear. 

“Decker.” 

“Detective,” a familiar voice replies. 

“Lieutenant,” Chloe says with some surprise. She had assumed it would be Dan or Ella. “What can I do for you?”

“I thought I told you to take a few days off,” comes Olivia's stern reply. 

“You did.” Chloe’s brow furrows, confused. “And I have.”

“That means _not working_ , Detective. I know Espinoza has been keeping you updated on the case.” 

Chloe winces, caught. “Right.” 

“I understand, this one is personal. Speaking of, how is Lucifer doing?” The Lieutenant sounds sincere. 

Chloe sighs. “He's...struggling. He decided to stay at Lux until he feels better.”

Olivia hums. “Yes, well, that might be for the best. I saw the sorry state of Dan's face and Lopez folded like a stack of cards when I asked her about it.”

Chloe grips the phone tighter. “It was an accident.”

“I’m aware. But I didn't call you to chat about your wayward partner, Detective. I called to tell you that the getaway driver turned himself in.”

“What?”

“Yep, came in this morning, apparently he wants to confess.”

 _Confess?_ She can hardly believe it.

“I want to talk to him,” Chloe says instantly. 

“I thought you might,” the Lieutenant says, sounding sly. “I'd get over here quick. Robbery is playing nice for now, but I bet they're getting antsy.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Chloe throws on a respectable pair of jeans and a jacket and is in the car without a moment wasted. She can't directly help Lucifer right now - he doesn't want her there - but this is something she can do, something she’s good at. If putting the man responsible away helps give them a little bit of closure on this, then that's what she’ll do. 

*

Eventually, Lucifer manages to to crawl to the couch and drag himself onto it, his breathing labored with even that minor effort. He lays out, awkward and crooked, but desperately grateful for a reprieve. His mind has settled a bit, but it still feels like he's been stuffed full of splinters and shaken about. It's better than the splitting agony of before. 

He doesn't hear the elevator descend and then return, but the ding of it arriving has him wearily lifting his head. For a moment he thinks, _Chloe?_ And dares not breathe, hope gripping at his chest.

But it's not his golden detective that steps out into the Penthouse. It's someone new, someone who niggles at his newly present memories, someone who makes his innate wariness bristle and stand on end. 

The woman spots him and smiles, wide but hesitant. “Lucifer,” she greets him, overly familiar and saccharine. 

He forces himself upright, unwilling to show weakness in front of a stranger that makes his instincts prickle with such intense caution.

“What do you want?” he asks, but it's a different question that rattles in his throat, unvoiced. 

She takes no heed of his tone, but progresses closer, heels clicking. 

“Your brother tells me that the two of you fought. I think he hoped I might be able to help somehow.” She pauses. “He said that you're remembering.... Do you know who I am?”

He looks up at her in suspicious confusion. She smiles nervously. Realization breaks over him. “Mum?” he asks, slowly getting to his feet. Suddenly, the dull pain of his head is of little consequence. 

She stands before him, his mother. The Goddess Divine. It's superimposed in his mind with the image of her standing there, next to his father, unmoved. The last betrayal. 

“Hello, son.”

His expression darkens and rage blooms violently in his chest like a gunshot wound. “You,” he snarls, striding forward. He grips around her throat and slams her up against the nearest wall. “You _dare_ come to me now? You have the gall to stand here and offer me aid after you stood there and did nothing?”

He feels the vague sense of deja vu, but he is too furious to care. She chokes, her toes not touching the ground. Her hands go to his wrist, trying to pry his hold loose.

Lucifer hacks out a cold laugh. “I had spared Amenadiel theterrible violenceI desired to inflict on him, but for this? For this I think I _will_ disembowel him.”

“He just wanted to make things better,” she pleads, still trying to appeal to some part of him long dead.

“Better?” he asks, disbelieving and caustic. “How, in any way, could you make things better? Do you even have any idea of what was done to me? As I fell, screaming and _blistering_ -”

“Lucifer, it was all your Father’s fault!” Her voice is thready with panic. 

He shakes his head, eyes narrowed. “Your inaction and neglect makes you complicit.” The words come out sharp and hissed. 

“No, son. We’ve moved past this, _ngh_ -” her words abruptly silenced as he increases his grip.

“Moved past it?” he says with disbelief. “Don’t try to paint me more pretty lies after Amenadiel’s patch-job fell through, Mother. I can _never_ move past it. I will always carry the burden of it with me, carved into my skin. Look upon what you've wrought,” he hisses, shifting his form. The Devil, red eyed, mangled and burnt. 

Her eyes widen in horror, “’M sorry,” she gasps, garbled, but decipherable. He releases her, recrimination and hatred warring in his heart. She collapses to the ground and coughs hoarsely, hand pressed to her throat. 

“Lucifer-” she starts. 

“Get out,” he says, voice flat. “While I'm still feeling merciful.”

“Lucifer, please,” she tries, one last time. 

He looks at her, eyes hard as flint. “I’ll not say it again, mother. Consider it a courtesy, if you like. It was more than you ever did for me.” 

She picks herself up off the floor and nearly flees back to the elevator. He does not look at her. 

Lucifer’s wrath roils inside him, seeks an outlet. He shoves everything off of the bar top, throws a chair into his table, wood splintering. He crunches over scattered debris, tearing books from their shelves, leaving them strewn across the room.

Another memory plows through him, makes him scream, a nightmarish mishmash of his past. He only allows it to sideline him briefly before gnashing his teeth like a wild animal and returning to channeling his rage on the things around him. 

He smashes bottles and decanters, hurling them into walls, heedless of the spray of glass. He unleashes chaos until he's burned through his anger and there's nothing left inside but regret and the taste of ash in his mouth. 

He stands there, lungs heaving, surrounded by destruction. Only the piano remains untouched, nothing else exempt from his anger. He chokes out a sob and falls to his knees, digging fingers into his skin. 

He laughs, unhinged. His hands are still red. The Devil. It’s no wonder he ruins everything and everyone around him. Was always in him? Did his father see it? _God’s Poison, indeed,_ he thinks bitterly.

He stumbles his way to the bathroom, managing to get the water in the tub going with some fumbling and makes it as hot as he can stand, scalding. Blisters bubble up from his skin. 

No matter how hard he scrubs, it's not enough. The water goes pink. He doesn't notice. Can't tell one pain from another. He keeps scrubbing.

It's too much, too much, and he just wants it to _stop_. A half formed petition for relief weighs on his tongue, but he does not utter it. He chokes it back and swallows it. Instead, he closes his eyes and sinks underneath the hot water, letting the air drift from his lungs in a stream of bubbles. 

*

Chloe is bracing herself for dealing with that asshole McMillan, but it's a different man altogether who greets her.

“Charles Baker,” he introduces himself. “You must be Chloe Decker.”

“I am,” and they share a firm but polite handshake. “I was expecting...someone else.”

He gives her a little bit of a wince. “The higher ups thought it would be better if I took over. McMillan is a cowboy, old world. Not exactly known for making friends. You know the type.”

Unfortunately, she did. “Well, I'm glad to be working with you, Detective Baker.”

He nods. “Likewise, Decker. Your reputation precedes you. They say you’re one of the best.” 

Chloe is flattered. She knows she does good work, but after the nightmare of Palmetto it’s nice to hear that others think so, too. “Thank you,” she says, a little taken aback. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what happened to your partner.”

She gives him a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Me, too.”

A bit of mischief sparks in his eyes. “Though I’m not sorry for whatever he did to scare the shit out of McMillan.” 

That manages to get a laugh out of Chloe. “Well, he _is_ the devil,” she replies.

Baker grins. “Right.” Pleasantries exchanged, he gets down to business. “Shall we talk with the suspect?”

“Yes. Brief me,” she requests. 

He opens the folder and starts summarizing. “Edward Gregory, friends call him Eddie. No parents, one sister, Sarah.”

“Previous record?”

“Nothing,” Baker says, shaking his head. “The kid is squeaky clean up till now. No parking tickets, doesn’t even have any poor marks in school. Apparently, he was a ‘delight to have in class.’”

Chloe frowns. “How'd he get tangled up in something like robbing banks?”

Baker folds his arms, considering. “As far as I can tell, Brian Trahan is the driving force behind it all, though Carolyn seems to be the planner of the two. Brian and Eddie were friends in high school, that's the only connection between them. Guess they kept in touch.”

“Let's go see what he has to say,” Chloe concludes and pushed the interview room door open. There he sits, cuffed to the table.

He's young. Younger than Chloe expected. Sweat dots his brow and he fidgets anxiously, big blue eyes and coltish limbs. Chloe strides in and he jolts upright. 

“It's you,” he says, eyes wide. “You're the woman we almost hit. Listen, I'm so, so sorry. I told Brian to stop, just to slow down, but he just - he wouldn't listen.” 

Chloe says nothing, just sets the files and photos out, the light catching at the badge on her hip. 

His words slow to a stop. “...You're a cop?”

“Mr. Gregory, have you been informed of your rights?” Baker asks. 

Eddie looks over at him. “Yes, sir.”

“And you have waived your right to a lawyer?”

“For now.” He’s more cautious. 

“You weren't driving?” Chloe asks, getting right down to business. 

“Yes, uh, I mean no, I wasn't driving.” 

Detective Baker leans forward. “Were you driving the vehicle when it hit Mr. Morningstar, yes or no.”

“No.” 

Baker raises a brow. “But you _are_ the getaway driver.”

Eddie nods quickly. “Yes. Normally, I am driving, but something must have gone wrong because when they got back, Brian just shoved me out of the seat and took over.”

Baker shuffles some papers and makes a note. “Brian Trahan was driving the vehicle?”

“Yes.”

He pushes the blurry picture they have of the car leaving the scene from the traffic camera towards Eddie. He taps it firmly with his finger, eyes intent. “Brian Trahan was behind the wheel when the vehicle struck Mr. Morningstar?”

Eddie licks his lips, nods. “Yes.”

“What happened after?”

“I told him to pull over, that we had to go back, but he refused. We drove back to his garage. Brian works at a body shop and we go back there after he pulls a job. He told me to get out of the car. I did and he drove off.” 

“Have you heard from either Trahan since?” Chloe asks. 

Eddie shakes his head. “No. Sometimes Brian goes quiet after pulling a robbery, but never for so long. I usually have direction on where to pick up my cut.” 

“Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” Baker presses. 

“He’s got a cabin. Up north somewhere. I don't know exactly.”

Detective Baker makes another note and starts packing up his papers, essentially concluding the interview at this time. Chloe doesn’t move.

“What did you need the money for?” Chloe asks. She knows somehow that he isn’t doing this for the thrill. Not a kid like this. There’s a deeper motivation here.

Eddie looks down. “My sister. Sarah. She's uh, she got cancer. I was working three jobs and it just wasn't enough. Bills were piling up and Brian came to me. Said I wouldn't have to hurt anyone, that I would just have to drive. But it might have been me driving that day and I could have hurt someone.” His hands clench. “Sarah would never forgive me.”

Chloe nods. “Thank you, Eddie. Someone will be in to talk with you again soon, alright?”

He nods. Chloe stands and Baker holds the door open for her. Just as she's about to step through, Eddie speaks.

“Is he okay?” he asks. Chloe looks back. “The man we hit, is he okay?” He seems genuinely concerned. 

Chloe thinks about Lucifer's complete radio silence today, the text messages that go unanswered and the missed calls. 

She offers Eddie a polite smile. “He's at home recovering.” 

Eddie looks relieved, sagging back in his chair. “Could you tell him I’m real sorry about what happened?”

A part of Chloe wants to be vindictive and refuse, but she relents. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

He nods and doesn’t ask for more.

But the question stays with her. _Is he okay?_ The thing is, Chloe doesn't know. She doesn't know how Lucifer is and his absence feels like a pulled tooth. Her thoughts keep dwelling on it, the hollow place at her side. 

She confers briefly with Detective Baker, overviewing the information Eddie had given them, lets him take point in the search for the Trahans. Her mind is elsewhere and he seems a capable enough detective.

Not expecting different results, but hoping for them, she tries calling Lucifer again. While the phone rings, it never picks up. Uneasiness settles in her bones. She bites at her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth.

Lucifer had clearly wanted space, but... Perhaps, she could just...check in on him. Just really quick. See if he needed anything. That surely would be okay. Right? Chloe nods to herself and decides to swing by Lux before grabbing lunch. 

She stops by Baker’s desk. “Hey, you'll text me with any updates, won't you?”

He smiles. “Sure. There won't be much to report today, though. We might talk with Eddie a little more, see if we can get some insight into where Carolyn and Brian have run off to. He might know more about that cabin the he thinks. We’ve got a warrant to search Carolyn and Brian’s apartments and that might turn up something useful, but we’ll send a team out tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Then I'll leave the case in your capable hands,” she says and then fixes him with a stern look. “For now.”

He grins and waves her off. 

Chloe doesn't fight the friendly dismissal. There's a strange pull in her gut tells her something is wrong, but she tries to reassure herself as she gets in her car. After all, Lucifer is probably entangled in some ridiculous activity or other. He’s probably perfectly fine. 

Still, she lets her foot weigh a little heavier on the gas pedal. She resists the temptation to use her sirens, but only just.

Lux is dark and quiet when she arrives, her footsteps echo eerily. That little concern in her stomach has flared into something that quickens her feet to the elevator. The doors part and she gasps.

The penthouse is absolutely _wrecked_. Her hand flies to her mouth at the sight of it. There’s glass and paper and wood littered everywhere. Bookcases are half ripped from the walls, furniture flung and broken. 

She walks carefully into the apartment, miscellaneous rubble grinding noisily under her shoes. 

“Lucifer?” she calls. There's no answer. “Lucifer!”

That's when she hears the splash. 

*

It's quiet underneath the water. Quiet in the way that static is quiet. Consistent. The noise of the faucet running pushes out any other sound, the constant rush of water. It’s peaceful, in it’s own way. 

He doesn't know how long he's been under. An hour? Two? He doesn't particularly care. He just wants to stop thinking. Let everything go quiet and dark. He could stay down here forever if he wanted. Maybe he will. Just allow it to stretch out before him, a yawning nothingness. It was better than the terrible agony of before. Anything was, really.

He doesn't notice when his lungs start to burn. Doesn't notice when he feels lightheaded. There's no need to surface. 

Hands suddenly grip him, tight around his arms and haul him out of the water. He gasps, chest heaving as he greedily sucks in air. His vision swims, spotting. Someone is speaking to him, voice frantic, but it’s muffled and indistinct. It slips through his understanding to where he can’t quite catch the meaning of it, only tone and intensity. He’s sluggish, trying to fix his eyes on the golden blur in front of him. His vision finally sharpens. 

“Chloe,” he breathes. 

She yanks him forcibly from the tub and only then does he realizes how cold he is, his body wracked with shivers. He flops gracelessly over the edge of the tub, coughing out water, Chloe pulling at him until he's on cold, wet, tile. She shuts the faucet off, the running water had long turned ice cold.

His clothes are stuck to him, soaked through. She's tugging at his shirt, trying to get at his buttons, his limbs useless to help. She forcefully peels it off of him and then there's a towel, rubbing roughly at his skin, over his scalp. It hurts, circulation returning to clumsy limbs with painful tingling.

His body convulses with a shiver that’s strong enough to make his teeth click. He realizes Chloe is still talking to him, a vitriolic string of obscenities spilling from her mouth as she wraps the towel around his shoulders and then starts to take off his trousers, no gentleness in her as she unceremoniously strips him down to his boxer briefs. 

Then she's drying his legs off with a fresh towel, movements furious as he shakes silently against the wall. 

“-you absolute _idiot_ ,” she's saying, as she stimulates his circulation, as if she could warm him through sheer determination. Her own clothes are now wet from the overflow that had spilled from the tub, her jeans dark from her knees down.

“Chloe,” he mumbles through numb lips, reaching for her, trying to cup her cheek with fingers he can't quite feel. She presses her own hand against his, increasing the pressure. The warmth of her skin scalds. 

His hands are still red. 

He feels like there's something he should be panicked about, something he's failed to grasp. Like he's committed some grave misstep, but he can't figure out what it is. 

She's pulling at his elbows, insistent, and he struggles to obey. She somehow manages to get him to his feet, leading him, stumbling and uncoordinated to his bed. He lays there, damp and shivering, whining pitifully when her warmth vanishes. She returns shortly and piles blanket after blanket over him as he shudders with cold. 

He can't seem to get warm. Exhaustion weighs heavy and unconquerable in his bones. Her touch is a firebrand of heat as she slips into bed behind him, wraps around him. His eyes flutter closed and he lets the pull of darkness take him. 

*

Lucifer comes awake all at once, consciousness blinking on like a flipped switch. He brings his hand up and stares at it, pink and pale. He lifts the covers and looks at himself, human colored and unharmed. 

How...? 

A foot brushes against his calf and there’s a noise of protest from behind him, still sounding mostly asleep. The memories from before come rushing back. 

He goes still. 

Chloe winds a hand around his torso. “Quit moving,” she says from where she’s snuggled up against his back. “You’re makin’ me cold,” she complains, pushing her nose against the nape of his neck.

“Chloe,” he says in a voice like he’s swallowed glass. She hums a lazy affirmative, plastering herself against his spine. It’s something he’d normally be quite distracted by, the delicious curves of her pressed to the panes of his back, something he would have liked to explore, but he cannot spare it any thought. He looks down at her hand resting against his stomach in some kind of dull shock. 

He sits up abruptly, causing her hand to slip against him and fall to his lap before she grumbles and redirects it to his leg. She forces herself halfway upright and shoves her messy hair out of her face to glare at him.

He looks back, unblinking. “You,” he breathes. “You _saw_ me.” His voice trembles. 

Her glare fades, slipping off her face. “I did.”

“And you weren’t scared?” he can’t help but ask.

Instantly, her expression changes. “Scared? Lucifer, I was _terrified_!”

“Of me.” The words sit painful in his throat. He can’t look at her. He should get up, he should leave. It’s the right thing to do. He reaches for the edge of his blankets, ready to pull free of them and escape. 

“No!” she objects, “ _For_ you!”

His head lifts sharply, disbelief flooding through him and the slightest flicker of hope. “What?”

“Do you have any idea what it was like for me? To walk in on you more than halfway to drowning yourself?” Her voice cracks and her eyes fill with tears.

His heart burns with shame. “I - I’m sorry,” he tells her. “I didn’t - I wasn’t thinking straight.” He’d just wanted the pain to stop. He hadn’t thought of anyone or anything else in that moment. He didn’t consider how seeing such a thing would affect her.

“Don’t you _ever_ do something like that to me again, Lucifer.” Her voice is vehement. “ _Promise_ me.”

“I promise,” he says, willingly offering it. He’d swear a thousand promises to her, anything she asked of him, if she would remain in his life. The power she has over him makes him quake faintly, but there’s no one else he would trust more. Something he hadn’t even realized had drawn tight in her loosens, easing the line of her shoulders. 

He feels... unfettered. Unmoored. 

“So...you’re okay with - with me being...” he says slowly, unable to grasp it. It’s unprecedented. 

“The Devil?” she arches a brow and exhales loudly through her nose. “Believe it or not, I actually figured it out a while ago. And even if I hadn't, I'm pretty sure everything that's happened this week would have clued me in.” 

“You... I'm sorry, what?” he asks, completely bewildered. 

She glances away, oddly shy. “I was waiting for you to show me. It had seemed - I thought you were getting closer to talking about it, proving it. I didn't want to rush the pace you'd set. I didn’t know about the -” she waves a hand around her face. “But I had been expecting horns, so.” She shrugs a little, cheeks pink. 

He stares at her, eyes wide. Then he lunges forward to kiss her. She makes a muffled squeak of surprise against his mouth, but doesn’t hesitate to move into the kiss, returning the pressure. She places a stabilizing hand against his cheek, thumb rasping against his scruff. 

He follows her, helpless as she eases back against the pillow, chasing the taste of her until their weight has settled against the bed. Chloe’s fingers thread through his hair and _grip._ Arousal jolts down his stomach, settling low and molten. He groans, her lips parting willingly under his as he sinks down against her. 

His hand travels down her neck, sliding past the softness of her breast, along the heat of her bare waist where her shirt has ridden up. He pauses there, caught up in devouring her, biting down on her plush bottom lip. 

Then his touch drifts further, pressing his palm against the outside of her thigh, the bend of her knee. He hitches her leg up over his hip and pushes forward.

Her mouth breaks from his with a gasp, the sharp syllables of his name, “ _Lucifer_.” She winds the toes of her other leg under his shin to get the leverage needed to press tightly against him, separated only by their respective undergarments. 

He brands a line of searing kisses under her jaw, down the tantalizing column of her throat. He feels the vibrations of her moan against his lips when he grinds tightly against her. He finds her mouth once more, shaking and desperate. 

She runs a hand down his side, skating across his ribs. It’s a soothing touch and she, bit by bit, slows them down. He follows her lead, swapping easy, languid kisses, enjoying the way her touch moves aimlessly down his back and arms.

They part, Lucifer hovering above her, both of them breathing hard and loud in the space between them. 

“We haven't done that before, have we?” he asks. It - it _feels_ new. 

“No,” she swallows, also trying to catch her breath. “Not - not like that.”

Desire pools in his belly. “Can we?” he asks, hovering over her, nose brushing hers, entreating. He wants to worship her, bring her to higher and higher reaches of ecstasy. “Would you want to? I'll make it so good for you, Chloe, I'll be so gentle.”

Her eyes are black with want and her hips press against his with a soft whine, but...that's not a yes. She sags back against the bed and looks regretful, running a hand through his hair, dragging nails along his scalp. “You’re still missing memories, aren’t you?”

He nods reluctantly, swaying close, nearly brushing her mouth in a kiss, but stops before making contact. No one ever said he had to play fair. She licks her lips, but he sees her expression go steely with resolve.

“I want to wait until they’re back, as many as possible,” she tells him.

“Okay,” he replies. “Okay.” He just can’t seem to bring himself to pull away from her, pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth. Then another. 

“Lucifer,” she says with a laugh and he wants to taste it, lick the mirth from her mouth, sweet like honey. She applies pressure to his chest. 

Right. He rolls away from her with a groan, flopping onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. She turns toward him and props herself up on her elbow. 

The moment settles, but it's comfortable. Warm and gentle. It is not a denial of gratification, merely a delay. Lucifer finds that he can be patient. For her. For them. 

“Show me,” she requests quietly. She can mean no other thing, as much as he would like to pretend at misunderstanding. “I want to see.” 

Sudden apprehension drips like ice in his veins. To see him accidentally is one thing, to request it is quite another. He sucks in a careful breath and lets the glamor fall. Charred skin, burnt and cracked, race along his arms, over his chest, up his throat. He closes his eyes as it washes over his face. They flutter open at the featherlight press of her fingertips at his jaw. 

She's studying him, eyebrows lowered intently. She skates her touch down the bridge of his nose, brushes a thumb across a heavy brow. 

“Chloe,” he rumbles, Infernal power playing along the syllables of her name. It comes out half yearning, half warning. 

She hums softly in response, not heeding him in the slightest. Her eyes remain unafraid. She trails her fingers along his throat and down his front, glancing over crags and flaws, before splaying against his stomach. Which does not help him calm down at _all_. She grins a little to herself when she can feel how hard his heart is beating, pulse thudding against her hand.

Very carefully, like she’s afraid of causing him pain, she leans forward and kisses him, feather soft.

The press of her lips are like a cool balm to his feverish skin. Disbelief cuts through him like a knife. How - How could she even bear the sight of him? Let alone press her mouth to his so gently? To his horror, his eyes brim with tears. He shuts them tight, but it’s too late. They slip from his lids down his cheeks. 

She pulls away and he forces his eyes back open, studying her. He’s not sure what her expression means, doesn't have enough experience to understand the mix of emotions on her face. It's far too complex to parse through in the brief moment it's displayed, but he wishes he could. He would happily spend a hundred years studying and learning all her faces. 

She reaches up and tenderly brushes away the tear tracks with her thumb. His own hand lifts to keep it pressed to him, turning to place a grateful kiss to her palm. 

She smiles and something like relief floods through him. She wiggles down enough to rest her head on his chest. Apparently, she doesn't mind how his skin is uneven and scarred. He watches as she closes her eyes, the fan of her lashes against her cheek. 

“Go back to sleep, Lucifer,” she murmurs.

But he can’t. 

He tugs one of the blankets over them and stays still enough for her to drift back off, noting the way her breathing changes, deepens as she shift into slumber against him. Her golden hair is soft against his sensitive skin, her pale hand a study in contrast against the deep red. It was almost unbelievable, that she could rest so peacefully. A precious thing in the grip of the Devil.

He wants to crystallize this moment, wants to form it, perfect in clarity, and fix it in his mind. He wants to impress it so deeply that it can never be taken from him, permanently etched. The warm, heavy weight of Chloe on his chest. The complete lack of fear in her gaze when she looked upon him. How softly she touched him. 

He feels like he could run a marathon, heart filled to bursting, no hint of tiredness in him at all. There's no possible way he could join her in napping in the afternoon light, but he finds that he's loathe to move. So he lets her sleep, carefully curling around her, keeping watch over her dreams. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) I made sure to end this chapter on a happy note for you guys


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Lucifer pick up the pieces of his past (and his apartment)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, you guys. hope a 10k chapter makes up for it!

Chloe feels a strong arm tuck her closer and she snuggles into it and. Awareness gradually comes to her, eyes fluttering open, feeling warm and safe. The angle is a bit odd, but she cranes her neck to look up at Lucifer, the source of heat that had lulled her to sleep.

He's returned to looking like his normal self. She reaches for him, touches his cheek. His skin is warm, smooth except for his stubble. 

“You don't have to hide, you know. I really don't mind.”

Insecurity flickers in his eyes. His response is quiet. “Even so.” 

Something for her to work on, then. She yawns, jaw cracking, and stretches a little, trying to banish the dredges of drowsiness. His touch is less hesitant as he trails fingers down her arm. He’s always been so careful with physical contact, even when he didn’t have his full memory. When he’d believed himself to be Samael, he had clearly been unused to it, but he’d quickly acclimated. 

He’d been startled by her fingers at his wrist, but later allowed Trixie to clamber onto him without comment. From what information she’s gotten about Lucifer’s homelife as a young man, she’s put the pieces together to form an impression of a very lonely, isolated existence. Did he ever receive affection? She’s seen Amenadiel offer a brotherly touch now and then, a hand to the shoulder, or something similar. Lucifer doesn’t shy away from them, but he also has no hesitation bestowing brief hugs in greeting or a kiss to the cheek. Or kisses in general. 

Her face heats a little, but she pushes the remembrance of his mouth on hers away. Even if Lucifer’s upbringing was perfectly happy, no doubt living and ruling in Hell would do damage to his ability to accept love and tenderness. 

After eons of being surrounded by that environment, something being given with no expectation of repayment must seem quite unusual. Yet, he lies in bed with her, drawing aimless patterns with the tips of his fingers, looking content to remain there forever.

“You have questions,” Lucifer says, knowingly echoing his past self. Chloe looks up at him, startled. He smirks, but it’s edged with sadness. “I can tell.”

She sits up, missing the sensation of his arms around her as he pulls himself upright as well. As much as she’d like to lounge against his side, this is a conversation she needs to be able to look him in the eye for.

“I do,” she says carefully. “How much of your memories are back, would you say?”

He considers before answering, which Chloe appreciates. He’s not just going to tell her what she wants to hear “I’d say about eighty, eighty-five percent,” he tells her, wiggling his hand. “What's missing is mostly memories from my time in Hell or before in -” he halts, throat clicking.

“In the Silver City?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Was it really so terrible there?” she asks, hoping he hadn’t always suffered, that he hadn’t always been alone.

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Not in the beginning.” Chloe feels a bit of relief, but her curiosity gets the better of her.

“What changed?”

He turns to look at her, his gaze impossibly old. “He made you.”

“Me?”

“Humans,” Lucifer clarifies. “He gave you free will, the ability to decide for yourselves whatever you wanted. Suddenly, my Father’s ever present direction became _restriction_.” Lucifer studies his hands. “I had questions that went unanswered, ignored - so I demanded. I wanted freedom, the ability to choose my own path.” He exhales shakily. “And I was punished for it.”

Chloe shifts closer and takes his hand, tangling their fingers together. She tries to offer her silent support, no condemnation, no judgement. He gives her a grateful smile and continues.

“I think the worst part wasn’t being thrown out, though that was indescribably painful, but -” he pauses, takes a careful breath. “Not a single one of them spoke up. Not my mother, nor any of my brothers and sisters stood up for me. They just _watched_.” His face twists. 

Chloe squeezes their hands in an attempt to comfort him. He slowly relaxes back against the headboard, leaning more heavily into her side. His thumb rubs along the edge of hers, a self soothing behavior that works for them both.

“And then I was in Hell.” He laughs, but it’s bitter. “I don’t have to tell you how awful that was. I’d leave when I couldn’t stand it anymore and eventually Amenadiel would chase me back down again.” He grins. “Until I struck a deal to stick around for as long as I like.”

“Good.” She nuzzles his shoulder. “You better stay right where you are.”

“Being here on Earth has been the best parts of my life.” His admission is quiet. “I knew that even before I could remember it.”

She's not entirely sure what to say to that. “Your time on Earth,” she starts. “It's all back?”

“My memories of here, of you, are essentially returned. I can tell there's minor things still gone, little jumps in time I cannot account for.”

“But overall?” she asks. 

“Overall, I remember, yes.” He smiles down at her. “I must admit, I had been so curious about how you and I came to be together.” 

“Our kiss on the beach,” she reflects fondly, cheeks pinking.

“Yes. I - I had received some...ill news just after. I went to you to speak about it, but then you were poisoned and I had forgotten it in the mayhem of the case. Afterwards, I was tempted to run, to leave, but-”

Chloe's brow furrows. She's never heard about this before. A distant panic sets up residence in her chest like a stone. 

“But I realized it _didn't matter_. What I had learned, it didn't matter.” His eyes are dark and fierce. “Because even - even if it were true, it didn't stop me from doing everything I could to save you. It didn't stop me from -” His throat works. “From caring about you.”

She breathes his name. 

He chuckles, a little dark, a little self-deprecating. “It was already too late for me.”

Her throat burns with emotion. “I’m glad you didn't leave.” She doesn't even want to contemplate the heartbreak she would have felt if he had left without a word. Her knuckles have gone white with how tightly she’s holding him. “Thank you for staying.”

He huffs a little bit of a laugh. “Thank you for taking care of me when I wasn't myself.”

She relaxes her death grip a little, hand aching, but Lucifer makes no complaint. “You're welcome. You can come to me with anything, Lucifer. I'll always try and take care of you.”

“Being Sam- Being _him_ with you...” Lucifer’s jaw clenches briefly, “He would have been better for you.”

“No, Lucifer. No.” Her protest is instant. 

“It’s true. He wouldn't have wanted to run, he would have _rejoiced_.” The bitterness in his voice surprises her. “I wish I could, but I _can’t_.”

“Surely, it can’t be that bad,” she says, trying to lighten the mood. 

He shakes his head. “There’s so much you don’t know,” he says. “About me, my family. About you.” His voice is serious and his eyes are dark. Her inclusion in his statement sends a shiver down her spine. “I don’t even know where to begin explaining.”

She presses a staying touch on his arm. “Then don’t force it,” she urges him. “When you’re ready, we’ll talk. Okay?”

Her reassurances seem to have backfired, his spine stiffening. 

“How is that fair to you? That we continue on together without you knowing the things I’ve done?” The muscle in his jaw flutters. “This is what I mean when I say it would have been better for me to remain as I was, instead of returned to who I am now.”

“Lucifer.” She places her hands on either side of his face, ensuring she has his undivided attention. “I wish you never had to have gone through all of the things that happened to you, I do. If I could spare you all the heartache that you experienced, I would.”

“Chloe,” he starts, half objection. 

She continues on determindly, “But Samael isn’t a separate person, he’s just a piece of who you are. And I love _you_ , Lucifer, every bit of you. So I'm willing to have a little faith and wait, okay?”

His eyes go wide with shock. Then his gaze goes abruptly black. “You need to leave this bed right now,” he growls. 

“What? Why?” she asks, just a little alarmed. 

“Because if you don't, I'm going to kiss you and I don't think I'll be able to stop this time.” 

Her stomach flips. And Chloe, well, she's never been very good at resisting temptation. Her mouth brushes his and he falls into it, clutches at her hips with bruising intensity. “Chloe,” he groans, his self control strained to the limit. She can practically _feel_ his restraint fraying. 

She pulls back. “Sorry,” she apologizes breathlessly. He shifts his hands to grip the sheets at his waist with bloodless knuckles. Taking pity, Chloe touches his cheek briefly before slipping from his bed. “I should get dressed.” 

He nods, body held taut, like if he allowed himself the smallest freedom he would break loose and take her then and there. It sends a thrill down her stomach even as she knows it’s not the time for it. 

“You can borrow something, if you wish.” His offer is quiet. 

She’s pleased by his thoughtfulness. After all, her clothes are a bit of a loss at the moment. Her jeans are still wet from dragging him out of the tub, her button-up is damp, but mostly wearable. As much as she wouldn't mind walking around in her shirt and underthings, it's probably best she add a layer or two.

She can feel his gaze following her as she walks into his closet sending goosebumps down her spine. 

She digs through his clothes, manages to find a pair of sweatpants with the tag still on them. She stares at the price for a long moment. These better be the _comfiest_ pair of pants on the planet for a whopping 800 dollars. She slides them on and...wow, okay. Yeah, that’s pretty comfortable. She rolls the ends up a little and thinks it looks pretty good.

A little afraid of what she might find, she goes through his sock drawer, but there’s nothing scandalous in it. She rolls a pair of socks on her feet. They’re too big, but it keeps her toes from being cold, so she doesn’t mind. There’s no real need for her to steal one of his dress shirts, but she does anyway, sniffing at the collar. It smells like him, sharp and masculine. 

He's standing near the large window when she rejoins him in the bedroom, clad only in his boxers. She takes a moment to appreciate him, his perfectly sculpted lean lines, the way the light plays along the bends and planes. He turns, catching her watching. A smile, slow and sweet as honey, stretches across his face. Taking in her outfit, he moves closer. 

“You look lovely,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on her head. “I like you in my clothes.”

“Caveman,” she mutters into the vicinity of his chest. It’s a very nice chest. It really isn’t fair of him to bring it so close. 

He laughs softly. “Cavemen aren’t near as scintillating conversationalists as I am, trust me.”

“You _are_ awfully clever with your mouth,” she teases, wry. 

“Ooh, touche, Detective,” he replies, pleased.

Of all the things she’s enjoyed about their courtship, and there are many, one of the greatest has been their banter. Chloe knows she’s no champion at flirting. She overthinks and overcompensates, but with him, their back and forth eased into flirtations as easy as breathing.

“I could use a drink,” he says, pulling away, hiding behind his charming mask, but she lets him. “Would you like one?”

“Sure,” she says, following.

His feet halt when he reaches the threshold of his bedroom. His eyes are wide at seeing how wrecked his apartment is. “Oh.” The single syllable is quiet.

She stops next to him, presses a reassuring touch to his side. “You all right?”

He shudders. “Yes. I just - I had forgotten that I...it’s all just a blur.”

She takes in the apartment. It’s...bad. She’d seen it upon arrival, but then she’d been occupied with keeping Lucifer alive. From the threshold of the bedroom she can survey most of the damage. It’s the glass that has her most worried. It’s everywhere and both of them are barefoot. 

“I should probably clean this up first.” She looks down at her toes. “And put some shoes on.” She retreats back inside the bedroom. 

“Go back to bed,” he urges, following her. “It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up.”

“Lucifer,” she protests, resisting his prodding. “Let me help.”

“I assure you, it’s not necessary, Detective.” 

However his voice falls on deaf ears. She shoves one boot on, and hops around trying to put on the second. “That’s not how it works.”

He stiffens, eyes dark and old. “I beg your pardon?”

“We’re a team,” she says, done struggling with footwear. She approaches him, takes in his closed off nature. “Would you not want to help if it were me? If it were my apartment?”

“No, of course not.” He softens, the words readily given.

“Then let me help _you_.” She encircles his wrist with her fingers. “Or you can rest if you're not feeling up to it,” she replies.

He scoffs. “We’re cleaning. What's the worst that could happen?”

She raises a brow. “With our luck?” 

“Oh, come now, the Devil's luck is impeccable.” Then he stills, looking at her with unsure eyes. 

She grins and tugs at him playfully. “Well, I suppose that must be true. You met me, after all.” 

Instead of smiling at her, he flinches. Her humor vanishes. “Lucifer?” she questions, concerned. 

He shakes himself and grants her a quicksilver smile. “Fret not, darling. It's nothing.”

But it didn't seem like nothing. 

“All right.” The words comes slow from her mouth, but he nods, stepping away from her. 

She feels a little like she's walking through a landmine. Every time she thinks she's reaches a safe place, he reacts contrarily. If it were anyone else, if it were anything less important, she might be frustrated, but there's too much at stake for both of them to give into irritation. 

“I’ll just go get some supplies.” 

Chloe allows him to slip into the recesses of his apartment. She heads back out in the main room and selects the easy task of picking up books. Those that are less torn she sets onto a nearby shelf. Lucifer might have some kind of organization to it, but she doesn’t know what it is. He can rearrange them later, if he likes. She’s got nearly a whole shelf complete when he returns. 

He’s got a broom and a vacuum and a caddy full of cleaning supplies. A very large trash bin rolls ahead of him that he directs with kicks of his foot. His resigned expression makes her think that this isn’t the first time he’s cleaned up after himself. Even though practicality demands it, she’s disappointed to note that he’s fully dressed, clean slacks and a crisp shirt. 

“Here.” He steps close and pulls out a pair of work gloves. She raises her hands to take them from him, but instead he indicates he wishes to slide them on. It should be awkward, but it’s not, wiggling her fingers until the fit is correct. He hums, a little amused. His touch lingers at her wrists. “There,” he says. “You’ll be safe now.”

“Thank you,” she replies. 

Then he’s backing away, setting things out. He begins picking up the glass and broken pieces of wood while she clears the larger chunks debris and tosses them into the bin. With the bigger and more dangerous elements handled, the wreckage of the place doesn’t seem quite so insurmountable. 

“I’m surprised you don't hire someone to come in and clean,” she says.

“I do,” he answers. “Felicia comes in to freshen things up now and then. But I wouldn't call her for something like this.” He surveys the area with weary eyes. “Not for something I've done in anger. It wouldn't be right.”

“I see.” Chloe pushes the couch with her hip so he can sweep behind it. His reluctance to accept her help is a little more understandable in that light. His offer to ask questions seemed sincere, but she doesn’t want to push for too much. “Can I ask what made you so angry? Was it something you remembered?”

“You can ask.” His hands flex at his sides. “When you have questions,” he continues, “I want you to ask.”

His offer makes her chest feel tight. She knows this isn’t easy for him. He may never lie, but he plays things close to the vest and being this open is difficult.

“Okay,” she says. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

“It was my mother.” Lucifer doesn’t meet her eyes as he carefully brushes bits of glass into the dustpan. “That's what...upset me.”

Chloe's brow crinkles and she looks over at him, but all he can see is his dark hair and the edge of his nose. “Your mother...Charlotte Richards?”

“Charlotte isn't my mother, but my mother currently resides in her body.”

“Ah,” Chloe says faintly. “You know...that actually explains a lot.”

He snorts a laugh, though there’s not much humor in it. “Yes, well, she came over last night in some poor endeavor at familiarity. She desired reconciliation, offering succor in some twisted attempt at maternal concern.” He stands and takes the dustpan over to the bin, dumping it.

“I take it that didn't end well.”

“She's alive.” He speaks those two words in a way that makes it clear that he views it as a concession. His shoulders are tense. Then he sighs, shifting back into the Lucifer she’s more familiar with. “But no, it didn't end well, to say the least.”

Chloe knows she's treading on thin ice with this subject, but she can't help but ask. “How come?”

“There is too much history between us for her to pretend at considerationnow.” His voice is weary. “And I do not doubt she only came running once Amenadiel told her that the grasp I had on my memories was ... _tenuous_. It would not be unlike her to seek an advantage.” 

Chloe doesn't have the best relationship with her mother, but she's always known Penelope to have her best interests at heart, even if they were terribly misguided. To hear Lucifer discuss his mom in such cold and antiquated terms makes her ache with sympathy. 

“I’m sorry,” she tells him quiet and sincere. There is nothing more she can offer. 

He gives her a small smile. “Yes. Me, too.”

They focus back on the work. Lucifer is a diligent and meticulous cleaner, ensuring every sliver of glass is removed. Once they’d swept the floors, Lucifer vacuums to ensure no little bits are left behind. She returns to replacing the books on the shelf. A few are too damaged to be saved and end up in the bin. 

She spots one halfway across the room, Lucifer must have thrown it with some force. Reaching down to pick up the thick volume, it falls open. Even being largely atheist most of her life, the book is still instantly recognizable. Two columns of text on each page, numbered by chapter and then verse. The paper is bent, but she smoothes the pages out and closes the cover carefully. 

Her hands tremble just slightly, but she dutifully walks back and sets it on his shelf. She doesn’t know why Lucifer would want to keep it in his home, but it sounds exactly like the kind of self flagellating thing he would do. 

She tries not to think about it and instead readies some water to mop while Lucifer loops the vacuum cord and returns it from whence it came. Much of the floor is sticky from spilt alcohol, but soon the penthouse is filled with the sharp, citrusy smell of Pinesol. She’s just finishing up with that task when Lucifer takes out the trash, not struggling at all under the weight of two massive bags, but his sleeves still pull tight against the muscles in his arms. He catches at her watching and raises his brows. 

She raises her own back and watches him shamelessly, eyes falling to his ass as he goes. It startles a laugh out of him and she’s glad to hear it. 

Without him to distract her, she dumps the dirty water. He comes back and washes his hands. Chloe gives the penthouse a once over, hands on her hips. She absently blows a strand of hair out of her face. 

“I think that’s about it.” She’s only a little grimy from the work. Sweat and dust do not a pleasant combination make. 

“I believe you are correct, Detective.” He looks over his spotless apartment with pride. “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

She leans up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his mouth. “You’re welcome.”

Their impromptu nap plus clean up means it's almost dinner time and Lucifer’s stomach knows it. She grins at the audible gurgling and growling, pulling back.

“Hungry?” she asks. 

“I suppose I could eat.” His eyes are dark and his innuendo is not subtle. She huffs a little at him and he easily relents. “What are you in the mood for, darling?” he asks, heading out towards the bar.

“Something easy. I don't want to go out.” 

“We could order in, or I could cook? Perhaps some stir fry?” 

She smiles. “Stir fry sounds good.”

*

Lucifer wonders if she can tell that he feels wrong footed. He’s been on his own for so long that working with another is sometimes still foreign. He knows how they operate when they’re at work, yes, but he’s still new and unused to having support in other matters. 

Working together with her to clean the apartment was rather cathartic, keeping himself busy made it easier to open up. Even when speaking about such a painful and confusing topic as his mother, he didn’t fear her judgment. Her understanding and empathy was a balm over old hurts.

The least he could do was feed her. He sets about his small oven with confident hands. There's a bigger kitchen in the back, but the one tucked into his bar will work just fine for this. 

He pulls out ingredients from the fridge underneath and she helpfully locates the pans. He sticks chicken in the microwave to defrost and starts washing and chopping vegetables, the movements of his hand on the knife smooth and skillful. He catches her watching him and does a little trick, the blade flipping before he catches it.

She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. 

An air of familiarity fills the space between them. Lucifer is grateful for it after these last few days. He remembers this, remembers the heft of a full pan, the hiss and pop of oil frying. He hums under his breath. 

“I’m so glad you're feeling more like your old self, believe me,” Chloe says, “But I think I'll miss hearing you sing.” 

He eyes her. “Are you angling for a personal serenade, Detective?”

She makes a content sound of affirmation, glancing at him flirtatiously. “I do love a good serenade.” 

He laughs and he ponders what sort of song to regale her with while reaching for cooking oil. Something mischievous lights up inside him and he changes the tune, finding the right pitch. A smile stretches across his mouth and he starts to sing.

“Through the days ahead I'll think of days before. You made me hope for something better, and made me reach for something more.”

She narrows her eyes, clearly trying to place why it sounds so familiar. Humor bubbles in his chest but he doesn't allow it to distract him. It's not until he's reached the chorus that it comes to her, face lighting up, eyes widening. 

“You taught me to run, you taught me to fly, helped me to free the me _insiiiiide_.”

She barks a laugh. He's singing _nsync_. She seems rather amused by his choice. A grin overtakes his face, but he doesn't stop.

“Helped me hear the music of my heart. Helped me hear the music of my heart.” 

She hides her face in her hands. “You're ridiculous,” she chides. 

But he doesn't reply. He can't hear her. The carefree atmosphere has vanished in an instant. 

Lucifer is abruptly in a time and place far away; cold, blue walls and the sounds of screaming. A demon laughs nearby, a low gravelly sound. There's a distant burning sensation against his arm, but he doesn't notice it much. It’s no matter.

“My Lord,” says the demon. “Shall I have their throats slit?” 

“Yes,” he answers, apathetic. They are usurpers and traitors. His rule is young, but it is absolute. If he has learned anything from his time in the Silver City, it is this. There can be no tolerance for dissent. 

Several voices raise into wails and howls that are abruptly cut short. Lucifer looks on with distant approval, a low sort of satisfaction. 

He doesn't feel Chloe wrap her hand around his arm and yank him away. Doesn't see her quickly shut the oven burners off. 

He sees bodies spilled across the floor in front of him. His loyal soldiers prowl and cackle, looting the traitors’ corpses for anything interesting while blood is still gushing, spreading in a dark pool. Hell is a visceral, _terrible_ place...but there are moments where it suits him. He was always meant to be a punisher. 

When it grows too much, well, that's what his little trips to the Surface were for, weren’t they? He could lose himself in the touch of a few dozen lovers, pump as many foreign substances into his body as possible, and enjoy all the debauchery humanity had come up with in his absence. At least until Amenadiel inevitably showed up to ruin his fun.

“Lucifer?” 

He angles towards the sound, a flare of irritation blooming in his chest. Who would dare address him with such familiarity? Was he not King? He did not wage war to be spoken to so irreverently. 

But when he turns to look, there's nothing there. His brow lowers with confusion. Something isn’t right. He’s not supposed to be here.

“Lucifer? _Lucifer_!”

He comes out of it with a gasp, like a drowning man breaking the water’s surface, desperate and clawing. “Chloe.” 

His penthouse filters in around him. The blue fades away, replaced with soft evening light. Adrenaline makes his heart race in his chest, skittering down his spine. He’s _not there_ , he’s not there. He’s here in his apartment on Earth. He’s here with Chloe. Relief and fear swirl in his gut, enough to make him nauseated. 

She grips at him as he shakes, hands steadying. Quickly, the shivers slow. He's here, present, much faster and much easier than before. She’s against him, concrete and real. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, running her hands down his arms. 

He nods, closing his eyes. It was just a memory, nothing more. 

“Is there anything I can do?” she asks, sounding helpless. 

“Just...just stay here. For a moment.” 

“Okay,” she complies, wraps her arms around his waist, presses against his chest. He lets his head fall down, breathing into her hair. The scent washes over him, pushing away the sulphuric smell of Hell from his mind.

“It's easier to remember I'm not in Hell with you here,” he confesses quietly. She squeezes tighter. 

She waits a moment and then speaks. “Can I get something to put on your arm?” 

He looks down at the burn in surprise. He hasn't realized, but now that he's paying attention to it, it flares with pain. Then he looks at the oven and makes the connection. It must have happened when he'd been lost in his own head. 

“First aid kit is in the bathroom, under the sink.” 

She reluctantly leaves his side to find it. When she returns to the kitchen he's still staring at the shiny burn he's acquired. 

“Here,” she says, taking his arm and carefully applies the cream. He doesn’t protest, letting her manipulate his limb as she sees fit, watching hands, steady and gentle. 

It allows him to mull over the idea that’s been burgeoning in his mind. With Chloe in his home he’s had a single memory overcome him. Compared to the hundreds that had rammed into his head before, the difference is stark. Returning to himself, to reality, was much smoother. He doesn’t feel like he’s been drug across razor blades. 

The only differing factor is her.

He breaks the silence. “I think - I think you being here makes it easier. The memories come slower.”

She still looks concerned. “And that's a good thing?” 

“Since they're significantly less painful one at a time? Yes.”

“Then I'll stay with you,” she says. “Until they're back.”

“Chloe,” he breathes, eyes wet. Overcome. She’s so quick to come to his aid.

“But maybe I'll take over stove duties, for now.”

It manages to procure a slightly wobbly smile from him. He steps aside and lets her start the burners once again. Her brow furrows, the same expression she wears when she's putting things together on a case. Thoughts formulating, connecting. 

“My effect on you - the memories coming one at time... Does it have something to do with the things you have to tell me?”

“Yes,” he says. 

She just nods and continues cooking. Lucifer is amazed at her trust in him, wants to be worthy of it. All he can offer her is the truth.

“You make me mortal.” The statement is quiet, filled with too many conflicting emotions for a single one to come across clearly. 

She stops and looks back at him. “Mortal?”

“I bleed, but only in your presence. You make me more human.”

Her eyes are dark and unreadable. “And that makes the memories slower?”

He nods. “I think, when you're here, the brain can only handle a little at a time. When you're gone, my mind tries to rearrange whole decades, centuries even.”

“Sounds unpleasant.”

“It is.” 

He watches her take a deep breath and ponder over this new information in her head, rolling it around and examining it. 

“Why me?” she asks, 

“You’re a miracle.” His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. It’s one thing, a _miraculous_ thing, to accept him, to accept that he and his world exists. But it’s quite another thing to accept that you might be apart of it. 

Her eyes lift to meet his. “You...you mean that literally, don't you?” 

He holds her gaze. “I do,” he answers, voice rough. “My father ensured your life, had Amenadiel bless your parents. You - you were made for me, Chloe, you had no choice - and I'm too much of a selfish bastard to -” his throat closes up.

“I was made for you?” she repeats more to herself, stirring the food idly. She frowns. “To what end?” 

“Pardon?” He’s not quite sure what to do with her lack of reaction. Here he is, tearing himself open and she’s mixing stir fry.

She takes a fortifying breath. “Even if - even if what you say is true -”

“It is,” he cuts in.

She huffs and glares at him for his interruption. He makes his eyeballs as apologetic as he can. 

“ _Even if it’s true_ ,” she says again, “And I was created for you...why?” 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I thought, at first, you were intended as a weapon, but I had to abandon that line of reasoning.” He sighs. “I’ve been to Hell and back twice now in efforts to save you and my Father has done nothing to keep me there. So it can’t be that.”

“You’ve...been to Hell twice. For me. Okay.” Her voice is a forced casual, her face blank as she processes that. 

“Your life was on the line. I’d do it again. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” It’s a vow, even if she doesn't realize it. He smiles ruefully to himself. “Even if I think you _would_ be better off with someone else.”

She puts the spoon down with a sharp clang, even as her expression remains calm. “Even if your father made me for you, Lucifer, I still chose to be with you, okay?”

“Chloe -” he starts. 

“ _You’re_ the one that said God gave humans free will. Am I not human? Do I not choose?”

Lucifer is struck by that, his whole body vibrating like someone had reached into his chest and plucked a string. “Yes. _Yes_ , you do.”

She doesn’t stop, her words firm and vehement as she leaves the stove and strides over to him, invading his space in a way that both scares him and arouses him a little. 

“That moment on the beach, when you said that you weren't worth it. I could have walked away, we could have stayed partners. I _chose_ to kiss you, regardless of whatever danger there is, whether your father likes it or not.” Then she makes a disgusted face, nose crinkled. 

He laughs a little. “It takes some getting used to,” he says. “And...I suppose you're right. Because I chose to stay when I should have left.”

She eases. “Have I told you how glad I am that you stayed?”

“It's been mentioned.”

She tips up on her toes to place a quick, soft kiss to his mouth. He follows her a little when she sinks back down, craving. She parts just enough that her next words brush at his mouth. “Why let your father's meddling make us both miserable?” 

And she’s right. Even if this is all arranged by his dad, even if it’s all going to fall apart in terrible, spectacular fashion - he’s happy. Afterwards, he will be able to hold on that. Right now, in this moment, he is happy with her, _because_ of her.

“The best revenge is a life well lived?” he supposes. 

She rewards him with another kiss, one that lingers. “You might be onto something there.”

He grins, contentment curling up in his chest. She returns to cooking and he drifts near while eyeing the stovetop. The burn on his arm still stings. He can’t really help much, but he can hardly bare to be away from her. Not after everything that’s happened. He slips his arms around her, hampering her slightly in her endeavors. 

_He_ knows he made the decision to stay despite knowing how Chloe came to be, but for her to make that choice as well? To know who and what he is? To know that they very well could just be two pawns in a larger game and not care? It’s nothing short of unbelievable. He presses his nose to her hair, dips down to brush the edge of her ear. 

She makes a small, pleased noise. He shifts her hair to the other side of her neck so he can lean down and place a gentle kiss to it. Desire settles in his blood, warm and heavy, but he ignores it. He just wants to hold her close. 

She laughs when his grip tightens and she’s veritably trapped in the Devil’s arms. “I won’t be able to finish this with you doing that.” 

He just rumbles, nuzzling at her. That doesn’t sound terrible to him. He would gladly forgo a meal in order to stay with her.

She gives his hip a light, playful smack. “Go set the table, would you?” 

He reluctantly releases her and does as she bid, though there’s less to put together than when they’re at her place. “Would you like to eat outside?” 

“That’s fine,” she replies. 

He gathers up some plates and silverware and strides out to the balcony. It’s oddly reflective of their once almost-date, when she’d nearly kissed him before they’d been interrupted. It seems so long ago now, two _actual_ dates and at least a dozen kisses later. 

The patio furniture had escaped his anger largely unscathed, most of the damage restricted to the interior of his apartment. He sets out the plates on the table, fusses with the exact placement of the forks for a moment, though it’s of no consequence. Placing his hands on his hips, he eyes the set up. Finally, it’s met his approval.

The sounds of the city draw his attention and he gazes out into the hazy sunlight just starting to tip into evening. A sense of melancholy washes over him. 

He’s pulled from his musings by Chloe’s approach. She sets the cooked stir fry down in the middle, a trivet underneath to protect the table. He quickly heads back inside to find a bottle of wine and two glasses. They’d been tucked inside a lower cabinet and thus escaped being smashed. He swiftly removes the cork and pours her a generous amount and does the same also for himself, bringing the glasses out to the patio. 

Her delicate fingers reach for one as he approaches and he hands it off. She brings the glass up to her nose, inhaling, then takes a sip. He smiles when she recognizes her favorite brand.

They settle and he uses a large serving spoon to dish out a portion of stir fry for her, raising his eyebrows to silently ask if that’s enough. She nods and he passes the plate to her. He scoops himself a bigger portion, his stomach growling. 

It’s quiet for a little while, both of them content in the silence, focused more on eating. 

“This is delicious, Lucifer.”

“You did most of the work, darling,” he refutes easily. 

“Yeah, but you seasoned it.” She takes another bite. “Where'd you learn to make stir fry?”

“Well, it's been around pretty much forever,” he looks up, gaze mischievous. “And so have I.”

Chloe rolls her eyes at him. 

“But I actually learned from Fu Pei-mei. Delightful woman,” he muses. “I believe I have her cookbooks somewhere. I had the honor of staying with her and her husband for a few days in the early sixties.”

“Really?” 

Her curiosity is clear and something small and secret in him delights in being able to share things like this with her, to have her believe him when he recounts his experience. 

“Her dumplings were exquisite.” He wiggles his eyebrows, indicating his jest. It pulls a laugh from her and he grins.

“So, exactly how old are you?” she asks, bright and curious.

“Well, it’s a bit hard to measure, darling. My siblings and I were created before linear time existed. Then I spent much of my life in Hell, where time loops and whorls. Suffice to say, I’m older than everything in the physical universe.”

Her eyes sparkle with some hidden amusement. “Wow, so you’re like _seriously_ robbing the cradle with me.”

He raises a brow. “Unless I wanted to sleep with my siblings, yes, there will be quite the disparity in age between myself and any lover. That said, I never selected a bed mate that hasn’t reached their maturity, regardless of the law of the land at the time.”

She reaches out. “I know you wouldn’t, Lucifer. You’re too honorable to do anything less.”

He is surprised, but pleased. It’s been quite some time since anyone has described him as honorable. “Thank you,” he says, and takes a bite of food. 

“You must have been to so many places, seen so many things.” She shakes her head a little in wonder. 

“Not as many as you might think. My occupation kept me away most of the time and when I’d returned, I’d find that entire decades had passed me by. But I have taken an interest in humans far more than any other angel. They tend to stay in the Silver City and are loathe to leave it. I’d much rather explore and enjoy.”

“What was the most memorable place you’ve been?”

He thinks while chewing. He could tell her about Rome at the height of its decadence, of being wrapped in silk in the city of Kyoto. He could wax poetic about the Renaissance or the wonder of the hanging gardens in Babylon. He might recall dancing to exhaustion in New York and smuggling liquor in by the barrel. But he doesn’t. 

“It was an island,” he says. “Surfacing from Hell...isn’t an exact science and this planet is mostly water. Many times I miss the mark and end up in the ocean, or drift to shore, or get picked up by a ship, but this time was different. I had been swimming for days and there was just...nothing. More and more water. My feathers were completely waterlogged, my only option was to keep going or return Below. Finally, I spotted land, but I blacked out before I reached it.”

He huffs a quiet laugh at himself. He’d been foolish. So rarely did he get a chance to surface from Hell that he’d refused to go back empty handed. He’d been so sure that Amenadiel would arrive any moment and pluck him from the water, but his brother never came. 

“I woke up in a house. A simple house, but a house. I was warm and dry. Someone had pulled me from the ocean and brought me to their village. They’d clothed me and dried my wings. I had no idea where I was. There was no land for thousands and thousands of miles. The people spoke an island language, one they called ‘the language’ which didn’t exactly narrow things down, but it was beautiful there and the people had treated me with kindness.”

“That sounds lovely, Lucifer.” 

He smiles. “It was. They thought I had been sent by one of their gods, Tāne, or maybe I was him in human form. God of forests and birds. Given the fact I was found with my wings still out, I can’t exactly blame them for the notion.”

He doesn’t mention that Tāne also was responsible for separating Mother Earth and Father Sky. That he was the one who clothed the Sky with stars. That his siblings hated and resented him. 

There were times where the parallels were too great and he would retreat from the people, would gaze out into the dark, unending ocean, would marvel up at his creations spread across the black sky and wonder if his story would always be repeated - in a hundred different ways, in a thousand different languages. 

Some things never change. 

“But I was treated very well.”

Chloe snorts a little. “I bet.”

He affects an offended look. “I’ll have you know that I was considered _quite_ the hot commodity, Detective.”

She leans her chin on her hand and gazes at him, both fond and amused. Her hair spills over her shoulder and Lucifer curbs the desire to run his fingers through it. “You still are.”

He grins at that, unable to refute it and continues his story. “It was the longest span of time I had on Earth up to this point. It took Amenadiel nearly two months to find me. In the interim, I ate with the people, sailed and sang with them. Of course, Amenadiel finally arrived to take me away.” Lucifer chuckles. “One of the men hurled a spear at him, it was beautiful.”

“And you still have no idea where it was?”

“Oh, I have a decent guess now. I’m fairly sure I ended up on what is now known as the Cook Islands, about three thousand kilometers away from New Zealand. I was there in the fifthteenth century or thereabouts. It’s changed much since then, but some things remain.” He hesitates. “Perhaps, one day, I could take you there.”

“I’d like that a lot, Lucifer.”

They finish their meal and watch the sunset bathe the penthouse in golden light. He gets distracted by the sight of her next to him. She looks ethereal, painted in honey tones, eyes like sea glass. Eventually the wine glasses run dry and the sky begins slipping more towards night. 

Chloe gets pulled away from clearing the table by a phone call from Trixie. Lucifer doesn’t mind attending to the task on his own. It’s comforting to hear the motherly tone of Chloe’s voice in the background. He rinses the plates and sets the pan aside to soak. His mind drifts, so much so that he startles a little when Chloe touches his elbow.

“She wants to talk to you,” Chloe explains, her tone low so as not to be picked up by the device. “If that’s all right?”

He blinks back his surprise. “Yes, of course,” he murmurs, taking the mobile from her and bringing it up to his ear. “Spawn,” he greets causing Chloe to roll her eyes. 

“Lucifer! Mom says you’re feeling much better.”

He looks at Chloe, where she’s taken his spot at the sink. His shirt hangs large on her frame, the collar wide. He briefly entertains the idea of what it would look like to have her in his kitchen with only his shirt on. He clears his throat. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“That's good, I want you to get better as quick as you can so you can come back over and sing to me.”

“Oh, do you, now?” he replies, playing at surprise.

“Yeah, Dad has a good reading voice, but he doesn’t sing.”

“Count yourself grateful, urchin. I would think listening to Daniel’s caterwauling would chase any semblance of sleep away for good.”

She giggles. “Will you be back tomorrow?” 

“I don't know,” he replies honestly. He pauses, unsure how to phrase this properly. “Child, even if I am well, I might be unable to be there to sing to you. There are many other factors at play.”

Despite his and Chloe's progressing closeness, he doubts she would want him there at her apartment every evening, even if he could. He had no desire to make a promise he can't keep.

Trixie sighs. “I know.” It's resigned. The sound of it is surprisingly painful, like an unsuspecting knife slipped between his ribs. He'd grown...oddly attached to her in his interim as Samael. “But maybe you can try?” she asks, her voice small. 

He looks helplessly toward her mother, but she isn't faced toward him, giving him nothing to work with. “I will try.”

“Can you sing to me over the phone?”

“What?” he asks, “Now?”

“Yeah.” He can hear the sound of covers rustling, no doubt the little nuisance is making herself comfortable. 

He glances over at Chloe, but she's still preoccupied, though from the slight shaking of her shoulders, he thinks she's laughing at him. He ignores her amusement and half mutters the beginnings of a rock ballad. 

Trixie objects. “No, no, a _pretty_ one, Lucifer. Like before.”

He pinches his nose between his fingers. “Okay, okay, fine. Are you in bed?”

“Yes,” Trixie answers dutifully. 

“Lights off?”

She makes an irritated noise. “Yes.” 

“All right, just - close your eyes.”

“They're closed.”

He walks quickly over to the piano, setting the phone down on the top, tapping it over to speaker. Fingers find their places on the keys and he strikes a chord, humming to find the correct sound. Then he slowly inhales and begins to sing, his mother tongue scalding and perfect in his mouth. It's been both ages and no time at all since he last uttered it. 

The noise of Chloe doing the dishes halts and he can practically feel her gaze on his back, but he does not turn to meet it. 

It's a shorter hymn, little more than a few lines, but he repeats it thrice over, accompanying himself on piano to make up for the lack of other voices. He lets the final note fall to a hush. 

He looks down at the phone, the screen still lit up but the other end is silent. “Beatrice?” he ventures. 

“That was really pretty, Lucifer.” Her words slur slightly with sleepiness. “Thank you for singing to me.”

“You're quite welcome, my dear.” He keeps his voice pitched soft, startlingly tender. 

“G’night, Lucifer.”

“Goodnight, you little miscreant.” 

She giggles again and goes quiet. He jumps when Chloe's arm suddenly appears in his peripheral vision to end the call. He hadn't known she'd approached. 

“I _did_ warn you, you know,” she says, the edge of her mouth curled. “You'll never have a moment’s peace now.”

He relaxes. “Yes. So you did.” He clears his throat and looks back towards the keys. “I suppose the harridan will have to content herself with phone calls.”

Something in her expression flickers. “I wouldn't mind if you came around to sing to her, you know.”

Her words hit him like a blow, but perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised. After all, Chloe is gracious and loving in nearly all things. But the trust she places in him, even knowing the truth, takes his breath away. 

His lack of response is mistaken for reluctance and she begins to backtrack, fidgeting. “But I know you have other responsibilities and there's Lux, and -”

“I would be honored.” The words tumble from his mouth inelegantly. “For as long as you desire my company, you shall have it.” 

“I do,” she says dipping down to kiss him. He quite likes how he has to stretch up to meet her lips with how he's sitting and she's standing. He also enjoys how she trails her fingertips down his throat, sliding past his collar to rest against his skin. “I do desire it.”

He makes a mournful noise when she drifts away. She huffs a little at him, walking over to examine his bookshelves. 

She makes no motions to leave his penthouse and he eyes her curiously. “Do...do you intend to spend the night?”

She looks over her shoulder at him and nods. “I told you I'd stay, didn't I? Until your memories are back.” 

He frowns. “You cannot leave your offspring unattended.” 

“You're right. She's staying at Dan's tonight. As long as you don't mind coming over to my place now and then, I think it will work out fine.”

“Of course,” he demures. He hopes it won't become necessary, however. 

“I might have a shower before bed, though.” Her fingers tap at her mouth. 

He swallows dryly. “By all means,” he replies, gesturing towards the interior of his bedroom. 

She gives him a flash of a smile and heads behind the stone wall. He stays very, very still at his piano and resolves not to think of the...goings on that were...going on. Or, he had planned to, until she'd stepped out moments later in just a towel, cheeks a little pink. 

He's seen her in a towel before, and in even less, but in that moment he's struck. 

She’s sheepish. “I can't figure out how to work your shower.”

He jolts to his feet. “Right, right. Of course, let me help you.”

His eyes can't seem to help but rove along the edge of the material, pausing on the dips of her collarbones before he forces them forward. He proceeds into the bathroom and pulls back the curtain. 

He can understand her confusion, the tap has an obscene amount of settings. He gets the water running first, then adjusts the pressure and temperature. He holds his palm under the spray to gauge it and it meets his satisfaction. Then he turns and he's confronted with her again. Naked...underneath that fluffy towel. 

He clears his throat and steps back. “I'll leave you to it, then.”

“Thanks.”

He spares not a single moment and quickly retreats. Fingers flexing at his sides, he stands in his bedroom, listening. The realization that his behavior is a bit creepy prompts him to find something to keep himself busy. 

He exits the bedroom and switches the lights out in the penthouse off, closes the balcony doors. He locks the elevator in position and checks his messages. 

Then he returns to the bedroom, strips the sheets from the bed and gathers up their discarded clothes from earlier. He’ll run a load of laundry while he waits. With that started, he goes to the closet and selects the finest linens he has. Silk, with a ridiculously high thread count. He makes the bed, tucking the corners tight, and fluffs the pillows. 

The sounds of the shower halts and he's met with the sight of her, again clad in one of his shirts, bare legged. She's drying her hair, looking at him, eyes sparkling. 

“I...” his voice croaks. He snaps himself out of it. “I took the liberty of putting your clothes in the laundry.”

“Oh, thank you, Lucifer.” Her smile is small and sweet and he wants to taste it. He clenches his fists. 

“I think I'll have a shower as well,” he says quickly and dashes past her. He snatches a clean pair of briefs from his closet and hurries into the bathroom. A cold shower. A _very_ cold shower. 

When he returns, he finds her in bed, knees pulled up to support the book she has in her lap. His reappearance causes her to lift her head and she glances appreciatively over him. Unsure how exactly this is supposed to go, he pulls down the covers and slips into bed beside her. 

He'd slept beside her as Samael, but he'd been terrified and confused. He'd woken up with her pressed to him as Lucifer, but he'd been bewildered and shocked. There had been no room to think about the scant space between them, how touch became laden with meaning, or how he can tell she's braless beneath his dress shirt. 

There was room for it now. 

She leans over and places the book on his nightstand and clicks the lamp off, shrouding them in darkness. It's a bit of a reprieve from his spiraling thoughts and for that he's grateful. He can see better in the dark than she can, so it doesn't startle him when she scoots closer. 

She twines their legs together and tucks her face into his neck. “You smell nice.” 

“So do you,” he says, gathering her up in his arms. “You smell like me.” He presses his nose to her hair and inhales the spicy scent of his shampoo. 

“Caveman,” she accuses him again, but he can feel her smile curve against his skin. She must be more tired than she thought because she drops off quickly. It _had_ been a rather taxing day. Lucifer can feel sleep pulling at him, but he doesn't give into it. Chloe's offer to stay with him until he regained his full memory was gracious, but he isn't going to squander the hours she's here. 

Once he's sure she's fully asleep, he carefully untangles their limbs and leaves the warm space beside her, not wanting to disturb her rest. He takes a spot on the floor and braces his back against the side of the bed. Chloe’s gentle sounds are the only thing to interrupt the quiet, but it’s steady and relaxing. Her breathing is the perfect tempo as he closes his eyes and measures his own in time with it.

He opens himself, letting his mind go where it wishes. The memories trickle down one by one, dragging through him, pulling him from one place to another, before settling. It’s slow, and not altogether painless, but the screams of Hell are easier to bear when they fade into her soft snoring and the memories of cold silence in the Silver City broken by her snuffling exhales. 

That’s how she finds him in the morning. He listens as she gradually comes awake. The susurrus of legs shifting on silk sheets. A noise of confusion when she reaches out to find the otherside of the bed empty. 

“I’m right here, darling,” he says, shifting to look at her. She slides free of the covers and sits on the bed above him, her bare leg nudging his arm. 

“You all right?” she asks.

“Yes.” And it’s true. He reaches for her and she bends down enough for him to slip fingers in her hair and kiss her good morning. She hums against his mouth, pulling away after a moment. 

“I’ll go get breakfast started. How about French toast?”

“Sounds lovely.”

He watches her go with warmth in his chest. He can hear the faint noises of her setting about his kitchen, the clank of pots and pans. Then it fades out until everything is white.

*

Samael approaches his Father's throne with no small amount of trepidation. He hides it behind a confidence that bleeds into arrogance and carefully measures out his steps, eliminating any hesitancy from it. 

The damage from Mother and Father's most recent fight is still apparent in the City. Towers crumbled, bridges split, the lower garrisons flooded. To receive an assignment separate from repair in such a strained time had made him nervous, but now his work is complete and he must inform Him so. 

He nods to Michael as he passes, his older brother's cold blue eyes warming slightly as he allows him entrance. Things between him and his brethren have been strained, to put it lightly, for centuries - if not longer. But Michael must still hold some affection for him even now.

“Good luck, Samael,” he murmurs. 

He flashes Michael a quick smile in response and steps inside. 

His Father’s throne is great in glory and mightiness. It is the brightest and most grand part of the entire City that shines like a perfectly cut stone. Samael can see his own reflection in the immaculately polished floors. He straightens the cut of his robe, securing the lines of its folds more flatteringly. 

His Father does not turn his attention to him right away, so he waits, trying not to give into irritation. His feathers go numb with cold, the ends brushing the frigid ground. It’s all he can do to resist the urge to flick them. He _hates_ being ignored. Finally, he clears his throat in a bid to make his presence known. 

“I have done as you asked, Father.”

Slowly, God turns to him. 

Having his Father's full attention is a study in opposites. It fills him with both joy and terror. It’s like being filled to the brim with light and being drowned in it. Slowly, his Father smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners and the sensation eases, and then passes. Relief trickles down Samael’s spine. 

“So I see, my son.” He rumbles. 

Instantly, they are both transported to a point in space, overlooking the star his Father had commanded to be formed, it’s yellow light softly burning and flickering into the darkness surrounding it. 

_Not too big_ , his father had instructed, _but not too small. Neither too close, nor too far away. It must be just right, Samael. Perfect._

“I did just as you had commanded.” Samael is nervous once again. He had been proud of his work, though he knows his brothers and sisters would admonish him for such an emotion. Looking upon the star now, he can’t quite deny it. It was beautiful and _he_ had made it. 

His father stares at the star for a long moment, long enough to make even Samael’s burgeoning pride waver. “Yes, you did just so.” Then He turns and lays a hand on his shoulder. Grips tightly. “It is good. You have done very well, my son.” 

Samael is surprised. The weight of his Father's hand is warm and comforting and it makes Samael feel full to bursting, love and pride swelling in his chest. 

“Thank you, Father.”

*

The memory settles into place with something like a soft mental click. Then it drifts away. There are no more blank spaces, no more gaps. He can feel it in himself, whole and complete. Lucifer opens his eyes slowly, the soft morning light from that very same star coming in through the windows. He takes a moment to breath around the rattle in his chest, to blink away the moisture that had gathered. 

Then he gets to his feet, waiting a moment until they feel less shaky, before he walks out to where Chloe is humming and whisking eggs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His memory is all back! Hooray!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They're back.” 
> 
> Chloe looks up at him, taking in his sudden appearance at his bedroom doorway. “What?” she asks. He looks frantic, hair mussed, gaze wild. Her eyes go wide when he doesn't reduce his speed, but strides rapidly toward her. 
> 
> “They're all back,” he repeats, sweeping her up into his arms, exultant. She’s still holding the fork as he swirls them around. 
> 
> “Lucifer!” she laughs. “Lucifer, what -” her question is halted by his lips as he kisses her into breathlessness. She feels a little ridiculous, one hand on his shoulder for balance, the other gripping the silverware handle tightly. Her toes are still off of the ground. 
> 
> He parts, hovering close. “My memories, they’re all back, every single one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well folks, it's finally here. I hope you guys find the concluding chapter of this journey satisfactory!

Chloe idly noses through some of Lucifer’s cabinets. Most of them contain alcohol, but she finds one below the bar that is actually a fridge and another that holds pantry items. It’s enough supplies for french toast. She hums a little, nudging a door shut with her toes as she cracks a few eggs, whisking them frothy with a fork. 

She slips a slice of bread into it when Lucifer’s voice startles her.

“They're back.” 

Chloe looks up at him, taking in his sudden appearance at his bedroom doorway. “What?” she asks. He looks frantic, hair mussed, gaze wild. Her eyes go wide when he doesn't reduce his speed, but strides rapidly toward her. 

“They're all back,” he repeats, sweeping her up into his arms, exultant. She’s still holding the fork as he swirls them around. 

“Lucifer!” she laughs. “Lucifer, what -” her question is halted by his lips as he kisses her into breathlessness. She feels a little ridiculous, one hand on his shoulder for balance, the other gripping the silverware handle tightly. Her toes are still off of the ground. 

He parts, hovering close. “My memories, they’re all back, every single one.” Then he kisses her once more, lifting her up onto the counter top to step between her legs. She’s not wearing pants, the stone is frigid against her skin, and she gasps at the unexpected chill. Lucifer’s heat more than makes up for it as he takes her mouth again, devouring, devastating kisses that set her burning.

Chloe drops the fork in favor of touching him, his bare skin warm against hers. Her hands rove down his throat and arms, drifting to the expanse of his ribs, sliding low on his belly. She crosses her ankles behind his back and draws him in closer. He moans softly into her mouth when she crushes them tightly together, trapping him in the bracket of her hips. Her brain finally catches up and she breaks away from his lips.

“Your memories are back?” She holds his face in her hands, meeting his eyes seriously. He’s practically beaming, eyes bright. 

He nods. “Yes.” 

Joy bursts in her chest. “They’re back!” 

He laughs and she’s dragging his mouth to hers, wants to taste his laughter until both of them are grinning too much to kiss properly. Their foreheads knock gently together, staying close, sharing air.

“Oh, Lucifer.” His hair is soft and a bit curly from where she runs her fingers through it. Her vision is slightly blurry with tears. “It seems silly to say that I’ve missed you when you’ve been here the whole time.” 

He shakes his head, presses little, barely-there kisses to her mouth. “No,” he says, “It’s not.” He nudges her with his nose. “I missed you, too. From the moment I understood what you were, who you are. Oh, Chloe. I - I _wanted_.”

The raw desire in his voice makes her ache, low and insistent. She makes a small noise in the back of her throat, clutches at him tighter. 

His eyes are pitch black. “Even as Samael, I wanted.”

She swallows a bit dryly. “Really?” Samael hadn’t seemed... Well, he had just seemed so innocent. He had never looked at her with desire in his eyes. It was only when his memories started to return that he began to flirt and play, bits of his old self shining through. 

“He perhaps didn’t understand the...carnality,” he says, his sinful tongue wrapping around the syllables, his sinful hands wrapping around the outside of her thighs. “But he wanted things he knew he shouldn't.” Lucifer leans in, hot breath puffs against her ear. “He wanted to serve you.” Lucifer moves his lips to the edge of her jaw, an open mouthed kiss to her throat. “ _Worship_ you.”

She widens the spread of her legs a little and his fingers tighten, digging into soft flesh. 

“Oh, _Chloe_ ,” his voice drags along her senses. “The things I want to do to you.”

He pushes tight, a slow roll of his hips that has her grinding down against him. Two thin layers of underwear do nothing to conceal just how ready and able he is in proceeding. 

“Yes,” she gasps. 

Her phone begins to ring. Chloe makes an inarticulate noise, half strangled. She is thoroughly sick of being interrupted. If she actually believed Lucifer’s father interfered with things she’d have a few choice words for Him. Possibly even some four letter ones.

“Ignore it.” Lucifer’s words aren’t quiet a demand, but it’s close. She doesn’t have it in her to argue. He nips her throat, hands leaving her thighs to inch up the back of her shirt. All she can think about is how she's not wearing a bra and how close his hands are. 

“Let - let me just go turn it off,” she says breathlessly. 

He makes an impatient, displeased sound, but he lets her slide off the counter, down his body. They hold there a moment, pressed too close, too tight. The edge of the counter bites into her back. Lucifer is a column of heat in front of her, looming. She watches how the shadows shift and flex with his every ragged breath. 

Fuck, she wants to climb him like a tree, wants him to have his wicked way with her, pin her down into impossibly soft sheets and never let her up. Her fingers tremble slightly as they press against his abdomen, his muscles taut beneath skin. She applies pressure and he gives way, yielding to her. 

She stumbles over to her phone, legs feeling like jelly, quivery and unreliable. The ringer cuts out before she gets there, but beeps with a text. 

She makes the mistake of reading the message and stiffens. Lucifer makes a low, disappointed noise, already knowing. Chloe looks over her shoulder at him, trying to make her eyes as apologetic as she can. 

“Lucifer,” she starts. 

“ _Don't_.” he warns. He's braced himself against the counter, hands splayed on the bar. His head hangs low as he carefully regulates his breathing.

The phone starts ringing again in her hand. She winces as she answers the call, thumb pressing down on the screen with a terrible sort of finality. Maybe it will be quick and they can get back to what they were doing. “Decker.” 

“Decker? It's Detective Baker. I've got some news for you.”

She closes her eyes and curses Lucifer's father, the universe, karma, whatever. She forces herself to ask the next question. “Did you find something in Brian's apartment?”

“No. Well, I mean yes, we did, but that's not the point. Someone’s brought Brian in.”

Shock hits Chloe like a blow. “What? I thought a team was going to be sent out this morning at the earliest.” 

“They were, but turns out - completely unnecessary.” He sounds excited. “Some bounty hunter tracked him to the cabin, brought Brian and his sister in. But get this, there's no actual bounty out for them.”

“Bounty hunter?” Chloe's eyes narrow. “Dark skinned? Probably in leather head to toe? Completely terrifying?” 

“Yeah,” Baker says, sounding surprised. “How'd you know?”

So _that's_ what Maze had been up to the past few days. “Call it a hunch,” Chloe replies dryly. 

“We’re getting them both processed now, it’ll be a little while before we can talk to them, but I figured you’d want to come in. Your Lieutenant cleared it.”

“I’ll be there,” she answers.

“See you then.” The line clicks off. 

Chloe mentally does the math as she sets the phone down. If Brian and Carolyn are being processed now, factoring in running home for a change of clothes...they have some time.

She turns to see that he’s stepped into the living room with her. “We have an hour?” she suggests, voice a little plaintive. She tries not to let the disappointment sit too heavy in her chest when he shakes his head no. 

“An hour isn't long enough.”

She huffs a little at him. Unbelievable. “Are you bragging about your stamina right now?” Well, at least it’s better than him being mad at being put off once again. Even Chloe is starting to feel frustrated by it all. 

“Not at all,” he refutes. “Though, it _is_ impressive.” He moves closer. “But I want to be able to...” His fingers trail down her arms. “Take my time.” His eyes are dark with promise. She shivers. “An hour isn't long enough,” he repeats, gaze steady. 

She nods, a little dazed. “Yeah, okay.” Her voice sounds weirdly high. She clears her throat. “Then... I guess I’ll need to head back to my place.”

He dips his head and steps back, the smoldering heat of his presence retreating a little. “Allow me to get dressed and I will accompany you.”

She catches his arm and he pauses. “We can still have breakfast.” 

He relaxes, a smile slipping onto his face. “Of course.” Shifting so that her hand falls to his, he squeezes her fingers. “Let me fetch my robe.”

Understanding that he may want a moment to...compose himself, she lets him slip away. She returns to the stove top, glad there hadn't been anything frying when Lucifer had thoroughly distracted her. 

Although the slice of bread that had been abandoned to soak up egg is going to have to be thrown out. It’s gone past soggy and is well on its way to mush. She tosses it and retrieves a new egg from the little fridge tucked away underneath the bar. He returns a moment later, robe belted at the waist, only to disappear somewhere in the recesses of his penthouse. One of these days she’s going to make him give her the full tour. She’s got a feeling there’s a lot tucked away behind hallway corners. 

Much like the man himself. 

He pops back in with a bottle of syrup in one hand and whipped cream in the other. Chloe valiantly does not think about what other uses those items could have and focuses on frying the toast in front of her. Once the french toast is made and divvied up they relocate to the couch, light streaming in through the balcony doors. 

He sits in the chair while she curls up on the couch. The distance between them feels greater than it truly is. Lucifer eats quickly, efficiently, while Chloe takes her time, swirling each bite through thick syrup. A little slips free of the fork before she can it to her mouth and dribbles down her chin. She quickly wipes at it and then licks her fingers. 

The pricking sensation of being watched trickles along her spine and she looks up to find him staring, eyes intense under lowered brows. He gets up abruptly. “I’m going to get dressed.” 

She mourns his sudden absence, but finishes her breakfast, soaking in the warm morning sun. It’s probably best he starts early, he takes a fair amount of time to get ready, she knows. A man does not look like Lucifer without preparation. Eventually the sound of a blow dryer running can be heard and she estimates ten more minutes. 

He shows back up in eight, hair expertly coiffed, eyeliner impeccable, the lines of his waistcoat perfectly neat. She gets a flash of purple lining as he slides on his jacket. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

She raises a brow, clearly indicating she is still only in his shirt and a pair of underwear and is gratified to see his ears pink. 

He clears his throat. “Right. I assume our next destination is your apartment, then?” 

“Unless I want to show up at work half naked, yes.” She winces the moment the words leave her mouth. 

It’s almost like Lucifer’s face can’t decide what expression to make, torn between arousal and amusement. It leaves him looking strangled. He coughs. “Yes, well, as delightful as that would be, I don’t believe criminals worthy of the pleasure.” His gaze dips briefly before he reigns himself in. “I’ll fetch your sweat pants.” 

When he returns, he politely looks elsewhere when she slips them back on then and there. “All right, let’s go.” She feels a little frumpy in his over-sized clothes next to his perfectly tailored suit, but there’s nothing to be done about it now as they ride the elevator down. Her car is still here, so Chloe piles in the driver’s seat, Lucifer sliding in next to her. 

The journey to her place is surprisingly quiet. He keeps his hands to himself. Chloe is somehow both grateful for it and irritated by it. Grateful, because she thinks she might combust if he were to reach over and slide his hand to her knee, fingers curling. Irritated, because the memory of his palm, hot and wide, spanning the outside of her thigh is enough to drive her to distraction. 

Lucifer faces forward, a faraway look that would have signaled an oncoming memory before, but now Chloe's unsure what it means. His breathing is quiet and measured. He doesn’t speak. She wonders if it’s an effect of having the more reserved Samael at the forefront, or if Lucifer is caught up in his thoughts. 

Is Lucifer’s tendency to chatter in response to being raised to keep silent? Or perhaps a byproduct of spending so much time in the Silver City alone? 

Her sexual frustration suddenly takes an abrupt backseat. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, hating how unsure she sounds. 

Her question causes his attention to focus on her. He smiles, slow and gentle. 

“Yes,” he answers, firm and unwavering. It shifts the low simmer of arousal into something else, something brighter, but no less intense. Something she’s not scared to name anymore. She reaches past the careful distance between them to tangle their fingers together. 

“I love you,” she says. She doesn’t speak it with a questioning tone, no unsubtle prodding for a response. It’s a statement. A full stop. She loves him. It’s only her second time saying it, but it feels like the crest of a wave of many more until she inundates Lucifer with them. 

His only reaction is a little inhale, sharp, like she’s astonished him. She looks over at him, his gaze dark and shiny, and returns her eyes to the road. His grip tightens and after a moment, his thumb begins running back and forth along her hand. 

When they arrive, Chloe leaves Lucifer waiting in the living room to go get ready. It’s nice to see him, fully himself, in her apartment once again. He pauses at the couch, just briefly, and looks up towards her bedroom. His eyes are unreadable. Chloe wonders if he’s recalling being in her bed, the heartbreak he had felt and shared with her. 

Chloe clears her throat, drawing his attention. “I’ll be quick,” she promises. 

He nods. She doesn’t turn to look and doesn’t bother closing the door of her room. It’s a bit of a moot point. He’s seen mostly everything at this juncture. Shucking her borrowed clothes off quickly, she changes into clean clothes and starts attempting to tame her hair into a ponytail. 

“Lucifer?” she calls out.

“Yes, darling?” 

“Can you grab me a jacket? The green one?” She examines her hair and decides it’s good enough. Her makeup drawer is a mess, but she digs around and pulls her tube of mascara free and starts applying, leaning over the bathroom counter. He doesn’t respond, but she can hear his footsteps as he goes toward the closet. There’s a long moment where she doesn’t sense any movement, so she finishes her makeup and fetches her boots. 

“Smaragdine,” he says, pulling the correct jacket out of the hallway closet.

“What?” she asks, leaning against the doorway so she doesn’t have to try and balance while putting on her shoes. 

“It’s smaragdine,” he repeats, bringing it over to her.

“Gesundheit,” Chloe replies, grinning. Lucifer is unamused, but she can’t help but free a giggle. He gestures for her to turn around and slides the jacket on for her. 

She straightens her jacket lapels while Lucifer smooths out nonexistent wrinkles at her shoulders. His hands are hot even through the layers of clothing. She gathers up her things and walks quickly to the door, ready to go.

“There’s no hurry, is there?” he asks, increasing the length of his stride to catch up to her.

She pauses. “No,” she answers. “But the sooner we get to the station and deal with this, the sooner we can...” she trails off, cheeks pink. 

His eyebrows raise. “We can _what_ , Detective?” he prompts, a mischievousness in his eyes. 

“We can...you know.” 

He smiles, slow and seductive. “Oh, Detective,” he says and she doesn’t know how he makes her title sound so scandalous, but she’s not sure she’ll ever hear it the same way again. “Will we _ever_.”

His response both makes her laugh and flash all over with heat. She takes his hand. “Come on.” A little tug has him following after. 

“Oh, not yet, Detective,” he teases. “There will be plenty of that in due time, I assure you.” 

She makes an amused snorting sound and just pulls him along. 

*

There’s something warm that blossoms in her chest at seeing Lucifer settle back into himself. He greets the other officers at the precinct as he always does, friendly and charming. 

She leaves him to it, smiling to herself, as she goes to locate Baker. The other detective looks a bit frazzled, but there’s a bounce in his step that he can’t disguise. She supposes it’s not everyday that your suspects are delivered to your door like a cat bringing home a mouse. Not that Chloe would ever compare Maze to a cat. Or, at least, not out loud. 

“Decker!” he spots her. “That was quick.”

Chloe smiles, “I was highly motivated.” It’s not meant as a double-entendre, but she can practically hear Lucifer’s voice in her head, smug and assured. _I bet you were._ Knowing that she would be spending her evening with him, that they would finally be free to explore and indulge - without interruption - didn’t exactly _slow_ her initiative. 

She pushes those thoughts away before she can blush and focuses on Baker in front of her. “What have we got?”

“I’ve just finished gathering everything for a briefing in the conference room.”

“That’s great.” He’s clearly made progress and organized it. Anticipation coils in her gut. 

He touches her elbow. “How’s your partner?”

Baker’s empathy is appreciated. Chloe’s thirst for justice subsides into warmth. “Much better; he’s actually with me today. He wanted to come in.”

Baker’s startled expression is suddenly darkened by shadow. Lucifer looms behind her, blocking out the light. She can feel the heat of him through the air, when she twists to look up at him, her elbow brushes his stomach he’s standing so close.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Lucifer’s tone is surprisingly cool. Baker doesn’t seem to be perturbed by it and offers his hand out for a shake. 

“You haven’t. Detective Baker, Robbery Division.” He doesn’t engage in trying to squeeze Lucifer’s hand too tight, but holds on for as long as is polite and no longer. “We’ve heard great things about you and Detective Decker. I’m sorry about your accident. We’re going to get Trahan behind bars where he belongs.” 

Lucifer seems taken aback by the sentiment, blinking. His hand briefly comes up to touch where the split near his hairline had been. “Thank you, I’m happy to report that I’m on the mend. I have faith in the work you and the Detective have done so far.”

“Baker was just going to brief me on what’s been done so far if you’d like to join us?” Chloe asks.

Baker’s jaw ticks a little, but he nods. 

“I’d be delighted,” Lucifer replies, the picture of composure. His hand is hot at the small of her back and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. 

The conference room has boxes of evidence taking from the Trahan’s apartments. A lot of it is useless, but the team on the scene had been thorough, bagging and tagging anything that could be helpful. Chloe’s files and Bakers lay strewn across the surface of the table, notes made in unfamiliar scrawls from the detectives down in Robbery.

While Baker is busy setting up the screens, Lucifer’s palm slides from her back to her side, fingers splaying across her ribs.The angle is a little awkward, but she presses her hand to his, meeting his gaze and slowly biting her lip. The gratification of watching his gaze darken is more satisfying than it ought to be.

“I think I got it,” Baker calls from behind the large screen. Chloe reluctantly loosens her grip, letting Lucifer’s hand fall away. The place where his palm had rested feels cold now and she shivers. Baker pops up and stares at the feed, grinning when it displays his files. “All right, so here’s what we know.”

Baker starts going over the general background of their suspects. Lucifer pays attention for a bit, but gradually drifts from where she stands to shift through some of the belongings taken. He opens a sealed bag with a noisy crackle. Chloe glances over at him, but refocuses on Baker's briefing. Lucifer takes out a scrapbook, circles around Baker’s presentation and selects a chair. He kicks his feet up on the table begins flipping through it. Chloe sighs and gestures for Baker to go on. 

Detective Baker scowls a little, but continues. “Their father is in prison, life sentence. He’s got a record. Abuse, battery, aggravated assault with a weapon. He’s responsible for the death of his wife when the kids were eight and six.”

“How awful,” Chloe murmurs, a pang of sympathy in her chest. 

Baker gives her an agreeing, mirthless smile. “Brian and Carolyn were placed in foster care. Carolyn did well, but Brian seems to have taken after his Dad with a rap sheet of assault and anger issues.”

The list is pulled up on screen along with a mugshot of a younger Brian from his juvie records.

“Brian bounced from place to place, but Carolyn was placed with a family and eventually adopted. She seemed to have been able to move on from her family’s tragedy while her brother did not.”

“Is this the mother?” Lucifer interrupts, holding a photograph out. A dark haired woman pushes a laughing child in a swing.

Baker studies it for a moment. “Yeah,” he answers.

Lucifer hums and tucks the photo into his inside jacket pocket. Chloe eyes him suspiciously for a moment, but Lucifer seems focused on snapshots from a happier time, half an ear turned to Baker.

“As far as we can tell, Brian tracked his sister down after she moved out and she’s been trapped in his orbit ever since. According to the driver-”

Lucifer goes stiff. “The driver?”

Chloe reaches out, touches his shoulder. “Eddie. He wasn’t behind the wheel when...” she paused, trying to find the best words.

“When I was struck?” he supplies. 

She takes a careful breath. “Yeah.”

“And you know this how?”

“Oh. I spoke with him.” She looks over at Baker. “We both did.” 

“I see.” Lucifer’s reply doesn’t give much away and she struggles to read his emotional state.

“I’m sorry. I intended to tell you, I just got...distracted.” Between finding Lucifer half drowned, the somewhat belated revelation that she knew he was the Devil, and being waylaid by his skillful mouth, it had completely slipped her mind. “Eddie is normally the getaway driver, but they were in a hurry and Brian took over.”

He nods, taking that information in. “Might I see the transcripts?”

“Of course.” She leaves his side to fetch the folder containing Eddie’s interview. He takes it, opening it and studying it.

“Is he still in custody?”

“Yes,” Baker answers. “The DA is planning on offering him a deal. He's been cooperative and his info helped lead to the arrest of the other two. If I were him I'd probably decide to take it.”

Lucifer hums, but adds nothing further. 

“According to the driver,” Baker picks back up, “Carolyn is the brains of the operation and Brian is the brawn.” 

“We should start with her. She’s smart, she knows this doesn’t bode well for her. If we can get her to roll on Brian, this case will be much easier.”

“Regardless, there’s enough evidence implicating them in Mr. Morningstar’s accident to get them jail time. Getting the robberies to stick is the harder part.’

“Wouldn’t the fact that I was hit on their escape be enough?” Lucifer asks. 

“It’s enough for one of their robberies, yes. But not all of them,” Baker answers.

“I see.” Lucifer’s reply is quiet, thoughtful. Once again she’s reminded how inadequate the justice system is. 

Baker is tactful enough not to display any pictures from Lucifer’s near death trauma. Chloe doesn’t think she could stand to see it all laid out so clinically. Not when she was there, holding on to him as he bled in her arms. 

“So we need to get Carolyn to confess about the past robberies and get her to incriminate her brother.” Chloe frowns. Depending on how loyal this pair of siblings is, that could be tricky.

“Right. If you’re up for it, we can start with that now.” 

Chloe nods. She looks down at Lucifer. He gives her a distracted smile. “Go on, Detective. I’ll be all right. I have a few phone calls to make.” It doesn’t sit well with her, but she nods. 

“Don’t get into trouble,” she warns him, a playful enough note in her voice to keep it from being a chastisement. 

He grins, eyes far too innocent. “When have I ever?” 

She snorts, at him but says nothing more. They leave him there, looking over the case notes, hand reaching for his cell phone, to go speak with Carolyn. 

Maze is there, staring through the double sided mirror at her quarry. Chloe comes to a stop, surprised to see her. 

“Maze! What are you doing here?” 

Baker stiffens a little and Maze runs her tongue over the edge of her teeth, casting him a lazy once over. “Just making sure she doesn’t try to escape, Decker, that’s all. She’s a quick one.” Maze smirks. “But not quick enough.” 

Chloe looks over at the pale slip of a girl cuffed in the next room. She doesn’t look like much, but Chloe knows appearances can deceive. Carolyn has a black eye. Ugly dark purple bruising that is just starting to green at the edges. A public defendant sits next to her, tie slightly askew. 

Chloe glances at Maze. “You didn't...?”

Maze cuts her an unimpressed side-eye. “No.” She crosses her arms and sighs. “She had it when I arrived. Looks like it’s a day or two old anyway.”

Chloe nods. 

“My money is on the brother. Anger issues. Tried to brain me with a tire iron.” She doesn’t seem bothered by it, but rather views it with some sort of grudging respect. Maze refocuses. “But you’re here now, so I’ll be going.” 

“Hey, wait one second,” Chloe catches Maze’s arm, but quickly releases her when Maze’s gaze falls to her grip. 

“What is it?” 

Chloe flounders. “Just...thank you.”

“No problem. Hunting down wicked humans is what I do.” Maze’s reply is flippant, causal. 

“I know,” Chloe puts special weight on the words. Tries to convey the real meaning of it. She _knows_. 

Maze stares at her, intense. Chloe doesn’t flinch away. “You do, don’t you.” 

Chloe relaxes. “Yeah. So I’ll see you when I get home?” 

Maze’s mouth goes wry. “If you think he is letting you go home, maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do. But don’t worry, I’ll watch Trixie for you until you get back.”

Chloe colors a little at the assumption, particularly since it’s probably true. She clears her throat. “Right. Thanks.” 

Maze winks. “Knock’em dead, Decker.”

Baker shifts a bit awkwardly. Chloe had almost forgotten he was there. “Do I want to know?” he asks.

“Probably not.” 

“Right. Back to business?” 

Chloe nods and gives Baker a quick smile of thanks when he holds the door to the interrogation room open for her. 

Carolyn looks small and pale under the harsh fluorescent lighting. She watches them with sharp, wary eyes, like a kicked animal. 

Baker begins the questioning after ensuring Carolyn is aware of her rights. She answers the routine questions honestly and quietly with occasional input from her lawyer. Chloe lets Baker handle most of back and forth, but eventually breaks her silence to ask. 

“How do you feel about your brother, Carolyn?”

She shrugs, something bitter in the angle of her mouth. “He's my brother. I have to love him, right?” 

She wears the same look that Lucifer sometimes gets when he talks about his family. Resignation and fear.

“Carolyn,” Chloe says with gentleness. “Who hit you?” 

Her tears increase and she shuts her eyes tightly, but it only serves to make her flinch with pain. She gives an aborted shake of her head. 

“It's all right. You have to be scared anymore. Just tell me the truth. Did Brian hit you?”

She nods. “Yes.” Her voice is tremulous and quiet. 

Baker leans forward. “It's my understanding that you are the one who plans the robberies. Is that true?”

“Yes.” This time the word is slightly stronger. 

He follows up with, “Did Brian ask you to?”

“Yes.” She nods firmly. 

“Why?” 

“He said we needed the money.”

“Did you?”

She goes silent, jaw tight. Baker moves on. 

“Carolyn, you're a smart girl. I’ve done the math, I would bet that you have, too. Bank robbing isn't as lucrative as it used to be. Still, the first job you pulled was fairly successful. Nine thousand dollars or thereabouts, correct?” He raises his brows. “Your next few jobs netted about the same. But you have to split it three ways between yourself, your brother and Edward. That's only three thousand a job. Why rob banks, Carolyn?”

She shrugs, fingers fidgeting. There are older bruises smudged into her forearms. 

Chloe shifts forward. “Why did Brian hit you, Carolyn?”

She shakes. “I wanted out. I didn't - I didn't want to keep doing this. But he just wouldn't listen. He wouldn't -” she chokes off, giving way to sobs. 

They let her have a moment to compose herself. “I don't want to do this anymore.” She looks up, face resolved. “I don't want to do this anymore.”

Baker looks irritated, but Chloe understands. “You don't have to, Carolyn. You don't have to.”

She shudders and nods. “What do you want to know?” 

Things go pretty smoothly after that. 

*

Lucifer isn't there when they get back. His seat is empty, glossy photos and well thumbed files spread out across the table. Chloe looks around, but there's no sign of him. He's not at her desk or over by the break room. A low grade anxiety nags at her. He's got his memory back, he's in full control of his faculties, there's no reason to worry. And yet. 

“Where's Lucifer?” Baker asks, his question innocent. 

Chloe's mouth thins, eyes sharp on the lookout. “I don't know.” 

She walks over to Detective Fernandez whose desk faces the conference room they'd been using. A perfect vantage point. The other detective is on the phone, but makes eye contact and raises his brows. A silent question. _What do you want?_

“Have you seen Lucifer?”

He nods, shifting the end of the phone away from his mouth. “Yeah, he went to go talk to the kid.”

“Which one?” Baker asks, his voice suddenly strained. 

Fernandez shrugs. Then whoever is on the other end of his line picks up and he promptly ignores them to handle his own business. 

Baker rushes off to the interview rooms with Chloe following at a much more reasonable pace. Whatever damage Lucifer wishes to inflict, well, there's little they can do to stop him. 

She reaches Baker, who's flung the door open only to come upon Lucifer...and Eddie. 

The boy is teary and Chloe knows well the state Lucifer can leave suspects in, but her alarm settles when she catches Eddie's words. 

“Thank you, _thank_ you so much, I don't even know what to say...after all we did to you.”

Lucifer looks a little wary at Eddie's tears and smiles a little uncomfortably. “Not at all, Mr. Gregory. It is because of your efforts in part that we will see justice done. Besides, I know the distance one will go in the efforts to save a loved one.”

“What's going on here?” Baker asks. 

Lucifer stands and buttons his jacket. “Mr. Gregory and I have had a very enlightening chat. We've come to an agreement. His lawyer will be here soon to iron out the details with the DA.”

“His lawyer?” Chloe asks, somehow both surprised and not. She arches a curious look at Lucifer. 

He shifts his feet, the only sign of his slight embarrassment. “I might have made a few calls. Just part of the deal.”

“Do I want to know?” she asks. 

Lucifer looks over at Eddie who still looks like someone smacked him over the head. “Mr. Gregory obtains the use of my lawyer in service of himself and the use of my funds in service of his sister. In return, he testifies honestly about his part in the scheme, Carolyn and Brian's activities, as well as anything else he can remember.”

“You have my word, Mr. Morningstar,” Eddie says with fervency. 

“I'm sure I do,” Lucifer replies. 

He leaves the room, Chloe and Baker hot on Lucifer's heels. “Look, you can't just go in and talk to the suspects without telling anyone. There's protocol to follow,” Baker is saying. 

Lucifer fixes his attention to the detective and they all come to a halt, pinned by Lucifer’s presence. “I think you'll find there's very little I cannot do.”

Baker swallows nervously.

Lucifer shifts his focus to her. “Brian Trahan.” His words are careful, almost overly precise. “I’d like to speak to him.” 

“Absolutely not,” Baker replies instantly. Chloe has got to admire the man a little. He's not letting his fear stop him from going toe to toe with Lucifer. Even if it is a foolish endeavor; One had a better chance of stopping the tide. 

“Alright,” Chloe agrees even as Detective Baker sputters in objection. Neither Lucifer nor her pay him any mind. 

“Alone,” Lucifer clarifies.

She nods. “Sure. But you can't hurt him. I don't want him getting off on a technicality.” 

“I won't have to,” is Lucifer's quiet reply. 

Baker stares between Chloe and Lucifer, aghast. “You're just going to let him go talk to the man who nearly killed him?”

“Lucifer makes his own choices, Detective Baker. I trust him not to compromise the case.”

“It's not just the _case_ I'm worried about, Decker,” Baker snaps. “Your partner has been through a severe trauma, one exacerbated by amnesia. He was hit _with a truck_. You cannot expect me in good faith to allow Mr. Morningstar to be exposed to the party responsible for it.”

Chloe blinks. “Oh.” So that was why he didn’t like Lucifer’s involvement. She’d put it down to simple jealousy or machismo. 

“I appreciate your concern, Detective Baker,” Lucifer says, his tone gentle and conciliatory. “But I'd like to face the man accountable myself. I think it would be far worse to continue on without knowing.”

Baker juts his jaw out, studying Lucifer with perceptive eyes. “All right, _fine_.” His phone starts vibrating. He pulls it out and scowls. “That's the DA’s office. I've got to take this.” He looks back up at the two of them. “Mr. Morningstar can talk to Brian, but someone will be behind the glass the whole time.”

“I don't have a problem with that,” Chloe agrees mildly. “I'd be happy to.”

Baker makes a slightly disgruntled noise at them. “If either one of them loses it, you pull the plug.”

“I assure you, I am perfectly in control.” Lucifer seems a bit insulted.

Baker casts Lucifer a doubtful look. “And it all gets recorded, the whole conversation. I want a report on my desk ASAP.”

“You got it.” Chloe's reply edges on flippant. 

He sighs. “I hope the two of you know what you're doing.”

“We don't have the best closing rate in LA for nothing, Detective Baker,” Lucifer answers, slightly disapproving, deliberately obtuse. 

Baker's phone begins ringing again. “Well, good luck.” Then he taps his phone screen and brings it to his ear, moving further into the precinct. 

Silence falls for a moment as they watch him go. Chloe inhales and looks up at Lucifer. He's staring back, an intent expression on his face. 

“I need to know what you learned from Carolyn's interview.”

Chloe quickly outlines their discussion, what they learned about Brian's motivations, the robberies, how Carolyn wanted out, the purple bruising at her eye. 

He listens intently, putting it all together in his head. Finally, he nods. “That's plenty for me to work with.”

She wants to know exactly what he will be doing in there, but knows now isn't the time to press. She trusts him to do the right thing. “Ready?” she asks instead. 

Lucifer hesitates. “You don't have to watch. Regardless of your promises to Detective Baker, I won't hold it against you.”

She touches his arm, fingers gripping. “I'm not afraid of you, Lucifer. Not even the scary parts of you.”

He gives her a small, unsure smile, like he doesn't quite believe her, and pulls away. Lucifer doesn't bother sizing Brian up beforehand but strides into the interrogation room. She has to dart into the viewing section so as not to miss anything. 

Brian looks up at Lucifer with a sneer, defiant even when handcuffed to the table. 

“Who the hell are you?” he asks. “You’re not a cop.”

Lucifer chuckles quietly and takes a seat. “Who the hell, indeed.” He fixes his cuffs, adjusts the line of his trousers. “But you’re right, I’m not a cop.”

“Whoever you are, I’m not saying anything,” Brian says, eyes furious. “You’re wasting your time.” 

Lucifer waits long enough that it seems he intends to ignore Brian’s impetuousness. Then he abruptly leans forward. “All right,” Lucifer replies. “Then I’ll talk, shall I?”

Brian scoffs.

“Have you ever been on a date, Brian?” The young man looks rather baffled by Lucifer’s question. Lucifer looks him up and down disdainfully. “You don’t quite look like the dating type, but,” Lucifer pauses, considers, “then again, neither do I.”

He raises his eyebrows to prompt a response, but Brain remains silent. 

“Well,” Lucifer picks at an imaginary bit of lint. “I was on a date a week ago. We went to the Harvest Festival down at the market. We had a lovely time. So much so, that I didn’t want it to end. So we decided to go out for milkshakes. Her, myself, and her daughter.”

A glimmer of recognition started to grow in Brian’s eyes. “You really aren’t a cop.”

Lucifer grins with too many teeth. “I’m really not.”

“Who are you?” Brian demands.

“Do you remember me, Brian? Do you remember how you didn’t even slow the vehicle as you hit me? The sound of it? You were in quite the rush.”

Chloe swallows, throat dry, as she watches. Brian’s jaw flexes and he looks away.

“Do you believe in an afterlife? God, Heaven, Hell, that sort of thing?” Lucifer’s question seems innocent. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work.” But Brian is clearly starting to feel rattled.

“I can assure you, they believe in you.” Lucifer leans forward. “And your lack of faith will not save you from the repercussions of your actions. I think you know that, Brian, deep down. I think you fear it.” Lucifer’s voice dips, an otherworldly tone reverberating. Inhuman. Mesmerizing. “How do you think you'll fare with what you've done?”

“I didn't kill anyone. I just clipped you. You're fine.” But the whites show around his eyes and the words are rushed. 

“Do you think that will spare you? Oh, but you wouldn't have hit _me_ , Brian. You would have hit a woman and her child. The two of them on their way to get milkshakes after a day of fun,” Lucifer says, a terrible sort of gentleness in his tone. “Perhaps your sentence would be lighter if it had been just me in the street. I might have let you escape unpunished...but not when it comes to them. In your greed and arrogance, you would have murdered a little girl and her mother.” 

“It wasn't like that. That was an accident, okay? Look, I'm sorry,” he says, “It's not like I wanted to hit them.”

“Of course not. You just would have neglected to stop afterwards.” Lucifer’s weight shifts as he reaches for his breast pocket and pulls out the photo. “Do you remember your mother, Brian?”

“You shut your mouth,” he snaps suddenly, jittering. 

Lucifer ignores him. “Do you remember how she used to take you to the park? The two of you would go get ice cream afterwards.” Lucifer looks at the picture for a long moment before turning it around and placing it on the table. “Were you there when she was killed?”

“I _said shut your mouth_.”

“Your father was sentenced to life in jail for her death and you were tossed into foster care and not given a second thought.” Lucifer eyes him and there’s something cold there. Ruthless. “Carolyn got the better deal, didn’t she? A loving family, people who cared. That must have made you very angry. Do you often hit your sister, Brian?”

Brian's face twists into something ugly, despite his fear. “Whatever that bitch told you, it isn't true.” 

Lucifer folds his arms. “She's done the math, Brian, and so have I. The two of you made enough money on the first robbery to survive and plenty more on the second. You didn't need to keep going. You didn't need that money, not like Eddie did. You could have stopped, lived out your life - in relative luxury, no less.” 

“She rolled on me?” His face twists. “Of course she did. When I get my hands on her,” he snarls, hands clenching with anger. 

Lucifer is unconcerned. “Actually, you'll never see her again, let alone lay a finger on her. Focus, Brian. We’re discussing you right now.” 

“What about me?” 

“You couldn't stop, could you? The thrill of it, the daring. You got a taste for it and _liked_ it, didn’t you? 

“Caroline's stupid, she doesn't understand. The money wasn't going to be enough, it would run out. We _had_ to keep -”

Lucifer continues like he hadn't spoken. 

“You tell yourself you deserve that money, don't you? That it's your _right_ , after everything that’s happened, after all that the world has taken from you, you deserve a little compensation, right? But in the quiet moments, right before you fall asleep you know that to be a lie. Trust me, I know lies. I’m the Devil, after all.” 

He finally catches on to the aura of strangeness Lucifer has been projecting. “I don't know what you're talking about, you freak.”

“I'm talking about the _guilt_ , Brian. The guilt that creeps up on you, that sits heavy and fetid in your gut. The guilt that seeps through the cracks despite your best attempts to ignore it.”

Brian has started sweating. Chloe wonders if it's nerves or if Lucifer can affect the temperature. Perhaps both. 

“You're guilty Brian, by your own admission. The guilty are my domain. Those who did wicked deeds in life sent below to be punished for their errors. Oh, I'm going to enjoy watching Hell take you apart.”

Lucifer's form flickers and changes. Brian goes white in terror. 

Brian stands abruptly, cuffed hands bringing him to a halt. He yanks at them wildly, metal cutting into his wrists. Lucifer stands also, a slow rising that showcases his predatory grace. Chloe cannot see his face, only the back of his reddened, bare skull. Brian freezes, looking up with feverish eyes. Then he devolves into wild panic. 

“No, no! Please, God, no! Don't - don't touch me, _please_ , I'm sorry! _I'm sorry_!” 

Lucifer stands there, allows Brian to burn through his burst of fear until he's a shivering, terrified mess. Then he reaches out, touches Brian’s cheek in a pantomime of intimacy. The young man recoils, but has nowhere to go. Lucifer draws his touch down Brian’s jaw, rests against his frantic pulse. 

“Until we see each other again,” Lucifer says, voice somehow both soft and unyielding. 

Chloe has never heard an innocent sentence sound like such a threat. 

Brian begins to cry. 

Lucifer releases him and steps away. He's heading towards the door and Chloe meets him just outside the room. Lucifer braces himself against the nearest wall. His face is human in appearance again and he draws in careful breaths. 

“Are you alright?” 

He nods. “Yes.” Then his expression twists. “No,” he admits. His hands shake as he reaches up to his breast pocket only to realize it’s empty. There’s no flask filled with scotch to settle his nerves. 

She takes his hands and gently lowers them to his sides, fingers around his wrists. His pulse is fast. 

“Talk to me,” she requests, trying to read him, but he’s having trouble meeting her eyes. 

“Sometimes - sometimes it's _too_ easy.” His confession chokes out of him. 

Chloe understands. 

“Do I need to wipe the tape?” Chloe asks quietly. 

He shakes his head. “No, it doesn't show up digitally. Only to the naked eye.”

“That’s convenient,” she says. 

Lucifer snorts. “Well, it might look a little glitchy. Infernal forms don’t screw with electronics as badly as Celestial ones, but there might still be some effect.” 

“I’ll look it over.”

He nods. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Lucifer. Not for something like this.”

He swallows. “Still.” His one worded reply is soft.

She’s curious about something, but doesn't know if she should ask. It must show on her face and he sighs. She recalls his insistence that she not be afraid to ask questions and unsurely ventures.

“You never used your mojo on him.” 

Lucifer’s lip curls with disgust. “I have no desire to know his wants.” There’s a flash of red in his eyes, his anger still bubbling right at the surface. 

Chloe nods and runs reassuring hands down his arms. He shakes very faintly under her touch. She’s unsure if it’s from fear or fury. Maybe both.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. It’s okay. You’re okay.” She does her best to comfort him. 

His breathing shakes, head drooping down, eyes closed as he struggles to pull himself back together.

Going with her gut, she tips her head back and kisses him gently, delicately, like the precious thing he is, up on her tiptoes to reach him properly. Her thumbs rasp over his stubble. She keeps it brief, falling back to her feet. 

“Chloe,” he says, his voice trembling. “I -” His words falter, his throat working painfully. “I -”

She cups his face, understanding what he’s trying to say. “Easy, easy. It’s okay.” She makes pointless little soothing noises. “You don’t need to say anything you’re not ready for, Lucifer. All right? When I tell you how I feel about you, when I use certain words, there’s no strings attached. There’s no expectation from you, okay?”

He shakes his head. “That’s not fair.”

She smiles. “All is fair in love.” It’s a weak attempt at lightening the mood, to try and get him to huff and laugh at her, but his gaze stays serious, his lips pulled tight.

“I care for you above all other things.” His words are quiet, but building. “I am undeserving of your kindness and your grace, but I swear to you that I will never stop striving to be worthy of it.”

She smiles, eyes prickling with heat, her whole body feels like it’s full, every fiber filled with how she feels about him. “I love you, too, Lucifer.” Her intention is to press a second, chaste kiss to his mouth, but he has other plans. 

His hands slide to her hips, pull her close, grip tight like he’s afraid to let go. He takes advantage of her gasp, his tongue hot and supple against hers. Her short sound of surprise quickly devolves into a groan when he sinks his teeth into her bottom lip, just on the edge of too sharp. He soothes away the sting, one hand coming up to cradle her jaw, keep her close. 

She tries to break the kiss when they hear a throat clearing behind them, but Lucifer chases after her, straining. Chloe pushes him back and he finally allows it, separating. He glares over her head at their interrupter. She turns to look. 

Detective Baker stands there, eyebrows raised, a bit of a flush on his neck. Chloe blushes all the way to her ears. 

“So uh. You two...definitely more than partners, then?” 

Chloe tries to discreetly wipe at her mouth, but there’s not much recovery to be made after that. Getting caught making out with Lucifer was inevitable, but she didn’t think it would happen so soon. 

“Yes,” Lucifer answers. He eyes Baker up and down, considering. “I’d invite you to join us, but I’d rather have the Detective all to myself.”

Chloe elbows Lucifer in the side. As if she couldn’t be embarrassed enough already. 

Baker holds his hands up. “No, no,” he protests, “I didn’t mean - I wouldn't -” his fumbling is a little endearing in its own way. He stops, takes a breath to settle himself and starts over. “I'll look forward to having that report, Decker.”

“Yes, Detective,” she says in some vain attempts to regain her professionalism. 

She makes her way back to her desk quickly, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the officers. Lucifer follows behind, a little smug, but it’s far better than his self loathing from before, so she won’t begrudge his satisfaction.

Lucifer sits at the chair beside her desk as she boots up her computer. She emails the Tech Department to send over the video clip and starts typing up the report. Her notifications refresh and she pulls up the video, one earbud in her ear as she reviews the interrogation. 

Lucifer fiddles with a paperclip, twisting the metal into little shapes. A line of paperclip animals trots across the edge of her desk. 

There's an odd sort of dichotomy, watching the Devil calmly take Brian apart on her computer screen for a second time while Lucifer looks childlike and innocent before her, forming a duck out of metal. But it's not two separate people. It's not Samael and Lucifer. It's just two facets of the same man. 

The man she loves. 

Lucifer is right about the digital capture of his image. The moment his form shifts there’s a slight stutter in the frame rate and his features blur slightly but still look human. Interesting. She attaches the necessary files to the report. 

She double checks the document for errors and adds her electronic signature, sending it to Baker. She sends him a text to let him know the report is in his inbox. Lucifer’s concentration flickers to her when she stands and stretches, but a brief touch at his cheek reassures him. 

She could use a coffee. 

*

Lucifer watches her go. She seems...fine. Remarkably fine. His natural suspicion starts to creep up on him, tell him that she's pretending, that it's too good to be true. 

After all, how could she watch him open Brian up, question after question, show him the face of the Devil, and still be fine? 

_Because she loves you,_ a voice that sounds like Linda says. _Because she knows you._

He sighs, knowing it to be true. It will take some getting used to, after millennia of being distrusted and vilified, to have someone see the worst of him and not only remain unfazed afterwards, but to treat him so tenderly, to press her mouth to his. Perhaps he’ll never get used to it. 

He’s not sure he ever _wants_ to get used to it, to always have that moment of delight where Chloe proves him wrong. He wishes for her incredible goodness, her capacity for love and forgiveness, to always defy his expectations. And to choose him over Samael? It boggles the mind - her insistence that they are the same person aside. 

Samael wasn’t wicked or broken and she could have kept him. But...Chloe would never do that. She would never knowingly do something for her own advantage that hurt another and she believed trying to force him to stay as he was to be harmful to him. 

His resolve to put forth effort to be worthy of her regard squeezes tightly in his chest. 

He begins twisting a new paperclip, but his thoughts are too scattered to form anything. Still, it keeps his hands busy while he fiddles with it. 

“Lucifer!” 

His name prompts him to lift his head. “Officer Bircher,” he greets. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I didn't expect you back at the precinct so soon.”

Lucifer awkwardly sets down the tangled paperclip. “Yes, well, I'm a quick healer.” 

“I’ll say,” the young man replies affably. “I was going to send this off to Lux, but since you're here you can just have it.” 

He hands Lucifer a box, the paper a demure cardboard color. Lucifer blinks with surprise. “Should I open it now?” he asks, knowing some gifts are better revealed in private. 

“Sure, go ahead.” 

Lucifer begins carefully removing the wrapping, a low grade excitement gripping him. He loves presents. 

“It's not much, but...” Bircher trails off. 

Lucifer lifts the contents free. “Cookies?” he asks, puzzled. He’s not sure he’s ever been gifted baked goods before. 

“I, uh, I baked them myself. There's some lemon squares in there for Detective Decker, too. It's just - we were all pretty worried about you. A lot of us wanted to visit in the hospital, but we were told about the memory loss and it didn't seem like a good idea, you know? And then you were only there for a day, so.” He seems to realize he's rambling a little and colors. “Anyway, there's a card in there. Enjoy them and I'm glad you're feeling better.”

“Thank you, Timothy,” Lucifer says, voice soft. “This is very kind of you.”

He ducks his head. “Oh, it's nothing.” He takes his leave, but the interaction seems to have broken some sort of dam, because afterwards many officers come up with well wishes and things. There's a card that's been passed around baring most of the precinct’s signatures. Lucifer feels...a bit overwhelmed by the show of support. He doesn’t quite understand.

Chloe returns, steaming coffee mug in hand and observes the proceedings with a smile, sitting back at her desk. She does claim a few of the chocolates Detective Johnson dropped off and kindly does not bring attention to Lucifer's misty eyes as gifts and get-well cards accumulate. He touches them with reverence, a physical testimony to their care. 

“Are you really so surprised?” she asks him, her tone gentle as she sips at her coffee. “The people here love you, Lucifer.” 

His mouth opens to remark something impertinent in response, but she reaches over for his hand, tangling their fingers. It halts his impudence in its tracks. 

“And so do I.” Then she brings their hands up to her mouth and places a quick kiss to his knuckles, looking up at him through her lashes. Her lips are warm. The sudden bold affection seems a little out of character for her, but he supposes circumspection is a little too late after Detective Baker happened upon them. 

He does his best not to hide behind his haughtiness, but replies with painful honesty. “It’s nice to be reminded,” he replies, softening. 

She smiles. “Then I’ll be sure to do it often.” 

Chloe turns back to her work, but she keeps their fingers intertwined. It’s noticed by a few of the others in the precinct, but not remarked on except for a few sly winks and nudges that make Chloe blush a little. Lucifer puffs up with pride, unable to help himself, and she flicks a rolled up bit of paper at him. 

A little while later Baker arrives. He's grinning outright now, the gleam of a case successfully closed in his eyes. “I just wanted to thank you two for the work you did on helping solve the case. We can get this wrapped up a lot quicker now because of you two.”

“You’re welcome,” Chloe replies modestly. “I know our methods are...unorthodox, but -”

Baker waves her concerns away. “Actually, it was pretty educational.” He grins. “I can see why your department is so protective of you. Anyway, I’ve got plenty of work to do, but it can all be handled down in Robbery, so this is goodbye for now.”

“It was great working with you, Detective Baker.” Chloe stretches forward and shakes the man’s hand. 

“You as well, Decker,” he replies, and then reaches out to shake Lucifer’s as well. “Mr. Morningstar.” 

Lucifer acquiesces to the gesture, shaking the hand warmly. “Charming fellow,” Lucifer muses as they watch him leave. Chloe gives him a look. “Though not as charming as me, of course.” 

She rolls her eyes. Lucifer finds her irreverence ridiculously endearing. Finally, Chloe concludes their day, the necessary paperwork complete. Lucifer finds himself eager to leave and take the Detective back to Lux and she seems just as impatient. 

Dan approaches as Lucifer aids Chloe with her coat, slipping it over her shoulders. 

“Hey,” he says, a bit cautious. His face still bears the marks from Lucifer's mindless strike. 

Regret churns in Lucifer’s stomach. “Daniel,” he acknowledges, trying to keep his voice as unalarming as possible. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Much improved,” Lucifer is happy to report.

Dan relaxes, relieved. “Good.”

Lucifer shifts his feet a little. “I have a very fine whiskey set aside for you at Lux. I can bring it here, if you like.”

Dan pulls a disgruntled face. “And have to share it with everyone? No way, man. I’ll come by and pick it up this weekend.” 

His response settles something in Lucifer that he didn’t realize was strung tight. He smiles at the man. “How clever of you, Daniel.”

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.” Dan’s grin is easy going. “I heard you two helped finish the case.”

“We did,” Chloe says, stepping into Lucifer’s space and sliding an arm around his waist. Her presences grounds him, the last of his uneasiness fading. “Now we can actually _enjoy_ our time off.”

“Big plans?” Dan asks. 

Lucifer tuts at him. “Come now, Daniel. Size isn't everything, you know. Regardless, the Detective and I shall be...” He grins satisfactorily. “Very busy.”

Chloe pinches his side. 

Somehow, the off color remark only causes Dan to grin widely and clap his shoulder in manly affection. “It's really good to have you back, man.”

There is still much to do. He has Amenadiel to speak with, will have to deal with the inevitable fallout surrounding his Mother. A very long session with Linda is due. There are explanations to be made, discussions to be had. But all of that can wait. At least for the moment.

There were far more important things to take care of first, like returning home and absolutely _ravishing_ the Detective. 

He looks down at her, tucked against his ribs. Her clear blue eyes gaze back up and she smiles, slow and warm. 

“It’s good to be back,” Lucifer replies.

*

"‘What do you think the stars wish for then?’

‘A softer beginning.’"

**\- A KINDER END | P.D **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's bittersweet to have reached the end, but at least we wlafe here together. Be a love and smash that kudos button for me? ❤️


End file.
